


Insanity x2

by MemoriaMente



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 57,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7255861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoriaMente/pseuds/MemoriaMente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucy runs a successful business in Las Venturas with The Vagos, who work under her. She's one of the biggest drug cartels in San Andreas, but craves something more in life. Craving the rush of missions and heists, she moves to Los Santos and begins working for Lester and Martin, robbing banks and assassinating targets, up until a rival gang, The Ballas, put her in a two-year coma. When she wakes up, three new people run the streets. And she wants in. (Online Mode meets Story Mode)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Los Santos

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Hope you enjoy!

A fresh start.

That's exactly what I needed. Las Venturas seemed to me like the city of broken innocence. I looked to the left of me where my right hand man, Carlos Reyes, sat at his chair. He was looking right back at me. His teardrop tattoos made him look more menacing as he kept his gaze at me, his shaved head revealing the faint outline of more tattoos up his neck and around his ears in a type of tribal expression. He gave me a curt nod before standing up, and grabbing a clipboard with my "TO DO" list scribbled on it. I glanced at the clipboard, and as I did, I got a small glimpse of at his arms for a moment, and my attention focused when I saw his new tattoo. I sat there, admiring the new tattoo of a woman he had gotten on his left arm. I appreciated beautiful artwork, even if it was slightly obscene and objectifying to some.

He was a nice man. Well, nice to me, at least. He was ruthless to those who wronged him, but in this business, you had to be. You had to show people who was boss, and that was a good trait for the CEO's assistant of Reaper Industries.

He was a man of power, yet he was not as bold when he spoke to me, which I didn't understand. I wasn't sure if he secretly loved me, or just feared me. I had known him for several years, but still I did not know much about him. All I knew is that he had a child named Rosa, the mother of the child was no longer involved with Carlos, and they never spoke. They only interact whenever they hand off their kid, but she didn't like his involvement in Rosa's life. She had believed Carlos to be a bad father figure and role model, and I couldn't quite blame her.

Criminals were not meant to be parents.

That's all I really knew, though. Other than that, he was just a loyal assistant who followed me everywhere I went, and clung on every syllable I uttered.

I examined my clipboard, clicking my tongue as I thought.

"Where do I have the most consumers?" I questioned, examining the clipboard a second time over. I knew the answer, I just wanted confirmation before I rushed to conclusions.

"Los Santos," Carlos spoke. "A lot of people like your product there."

I nodded silently, thinking to myself. "Los Santos. . . Describe it to me."

"A lot of people live there, miss. There are lots of famous people and also lots of arrogant, self-entitled people. But it's beautiful. Lots of large, nice mansions. A lot of Vagos around that area, but also a lot of Ballas."

I sighed. "Well, cocaine is a rich man's drug, that's for sure. Even though I hate the rich, I think that's where I'll move to."

"What's wrong with Las Venturas?" Carlos questioned. I laughed. He should have been able to guess at least one of my reasons.

"Well, for one, ever since those damn Ballas murdered my aunt and uncle, I've felt haunted by this building. It's a constant reminder that their gone, and this place doesn't feel like my own. It doesn't feel like mine. . . I need my own place to do business, instead of spook myself every time I come into work, I need to feel accomplished." I shifted in my seat. The seat let out a long groan, and I rolled my eyes. This chair had reached its expiration long ago, I just felt like it wasn't my decision to replace it, but my aunt and uncle's. I couldn't throw out a single possession of theirs out of respect for them.

I worked in their office, which was the top floor of an abandoned warehouse. It was a nice, quiet little spot, as it was secluded from the rest of the city, but it was not particularly hidden. The room had a creaky, wooden floor that looked like it had seen better days, as it was a faded color. The walls had peeling, green flowers on a faded, cream white color. The lamp needed a changed bulb, and kept flickering, but every time I remembered to change the bulb, I had to leave the office to go check on inventory or talk to a client. I asked Carlos to do it, but he was also busy, maybe even busier than me, which was okay. I didn't mind.

This was actually the most run-down property my Aunt and Uncle owned. Their mansion cost a total of 4.5 million dollars, and their cars cost 1.2 million, minimum. They were very successful in their business, as it had been around for quite some time.

My uncle and father had worked together, up until my uncle found out my father was a snitch, and kept using the product. For the sake of me, my uncle pushed my father out of the business, thinking my father would stop taking all of the cocaine that him and my mom would burn through like hotcakes, but my parents merely moved on to different drugs, and my family had fallen into tough times.

My uncle tried to re-hire my father, but my father's stupid pride stopped him from accepting his old position back, and instead blamed me for his lost job.

My father turned into an abusive drug addict, and I showed up to school with bruises and slashes all over my body. Once I collapsed in school due to the pain, social services were notified, and I was handed over to my aunt and uncle.

My aunt and uncle loved me, and raised me as their own child. They taught me how to run the business, how to crunch the numbers, and how to punish those who dare cross me. False employees, rival drug dealers, the poor who took too much without being able to pay. The worst of the lot.

My aunt was the number cruncher, my uncle was the enforcer, and I took both traits from them, and they molded me into a kingpin.

Once my aunt and uncle had pissed off the Ballas for getting in the way of their drug business with our own, they killed them, expecting the business to collapse. What they didn't know is I had been helping run the business since I was nineteen, and taking over for my aunt and uncle would be a piece of cake.

Although they had been murdered ten years ago when I was twenty-four, I never felt right working out of this room. I hated it, and today something pushed the urge to move even more.

I had outgrown this city. I felt like everything I had done in this city had not been an accomplishment. Reaper Industries? My aunt and uncle started it up, not me. I just merely kept it running.

That was all I had on my list of accomplishments.

"Any crime bosses in LS?"

"Plenty."

"Perfect," I spoke. I stood up. "You comin' with, or staying here?"

Carlos blinked for a moment. There were Vagos in Los Santos as well, or near it at least, so I didn't have to worry about my men not having contact with me, but this guy was my right hand man. He was the first person I found potential and trust with after I had hired The Vagos to distribute and handle my drugs to spite The Ballas. The Vagos were a small gang up until I helped them with my business, and now they're slowly becoming more known.

But this guy seemed to like the job he had, being almost my personal assistant. This guy seemed like someone who wasn't particularly meant for the hood, but just ended up there due to an awful environment, kind of like me. But, of course, crime suited me well eventually, as it did him, but we were more acclimated to positions of power than grunt or gang positions. We were a different kind of "deviant," although I felt like I grew more evil as the days passed, and found insanity comforted me. insanity was a piece of me that I held close to me, and it helped me run my business with an iron fist.

He hesitated, his eyes hard, and I could tell he was not about to be just a gang member once more. He wanted to prove himself to be worth more than that. "Yeah."

I nodded. "Great. Tell your friends that their supplier is moving to LS, and to find a new apartment or house out there if they want to come along." I stood up. "I don't need anything from this crappy ass place besides my important documents and my wallet. I'll buy everything new in LS, it'll be a new life." I turned to look at Carlos, who was currently fidgeting with his sleeve. "You okay?"

He looked up. "When do I have to move?"

"As soon as possible. Within the next few days, or week. I'll be in LS," I spoke. "I'll text you with a new address."

Carlos merely nodded as I walked out of the old building, breathing out the toxic scent of old memories. I was leaving the past behind me, once and for all.

\--

I looked at the sight before me. Giant buildings stretching out into the sky, beautiful people walking past me as I craned my head up to see the end of the buildings, cameras flashing as a famous person walked behind me.

". . .And then I told her to go fuck herself. He may be her husband but he's my boyfriend," a snooty girl spoke on the phone, walking by me. She had her head held high and carried herself with such ignorance.

Fucking disgusting. My nose scrunched up in disgust.

I shuddered. These were my customers? These rich snobs?

Of course, I had millions myself, but I didn't indulge in my money like they did. No, I kept humble. I didn't really enjoy having all the money I did. I'd happily live without it. I wasn't in my line of work for the money, but for the sport.

I bought a regular two-room house in the hills of LS at 3655 Wild Oats Drive. It was away from the heart of the city so I didn't have to deal with people as much when I went home each day. I also found a way to do business through my phone to all my contacts and via my computer with also keeping under the radar. I guess my aunt and uncle kept it old school with having an actual "secret" office and such. It was a lot more expensive that it should've been, but I did have more money than I knew what to do with.

But this was my business now, and it was my turn to run it. I was going to run it how I wanted to run it.

I checked my watch. It was already five o'clock at night, I had ordered all my furniture online because fuck if I was gonna have a bunch of Vagos lug my new furniture and scare the hell out of my new neighbors. Gang members delivering furniture? That'd get me on the watch list in no time.

The furniture was expected within the week, but Carlos told me he had found an apartment, and could stay at my house tomorrow through Saturday to accept my shipments for me while I explored the new town and bought new clothes and figured out what to do in this shitty place.

I sighed. No shipment would arrive tonight, and it was only five o'clock. I walked out of my house and got into my red Banshee 900r.

Okay, so maybe I didn't show off my wealth with my house and my clothing, but I had a weak spot for cars, and had three garages in LS for all of my cars. I could also fit ten cars in the garage I had for this house. It was the reason I had bought a house in such a "nice" neighborhood. It had a spacious place for my babies, and that's all I needed.

I started to back out of my driveway, quickly breaking when I saw someone had driven right behind me just to park. They got out of their car and locked it, walking to the house next to mine.

"Excuse me?" I shouted, getting out of my car. "You're blocking my driveway! I was just backing out!"

He waved a hand, dismissing me as the owner of the house let him in. I growled, walking up to the prick's car. I grabbed a box of matches out of my pocket, and some gasoline and poured gasoline on the seats of the car. I lit the seats on fire, and found the breaks, slicing them out of his car. The car started to roll down the hill, I laughed and got back into my car and backed out of my driveway. So much for staying under the radar.

I started to drive to the place my GPS found, a little clothing store, when I started to get a phone call. I answered it and put it to my ear.

Yeah, yeah, driving on the phone. Not smart. But I was a good driver, even if I was now surrounded by idiot drivers. "Hello?"

"You're quite impressive. Why'd you chose Los Santos?"

"Who is this?" I questioned. Now I had to definitely pull over. No one was ever able to get a hold of my phone number that easy. I put my car in park and adjusted the phone.

"Meet me at the pier. We'll talk business." the line hung up. I looked at my phone. "UNKNOWN."

Great. I groaned before changing my GPS to the pier, driving over once I had stopped at Ammunation and purchased a Combat Pistol. Just in case this went wrong.

I tucked it in my pocket and started to drive to the pier to meet this unknown caller.


	2. Two Years

I uncomfortably shifted in my seat. I examined my clothes. I was wearing black skinny jeans, a purple tank top and a pair of worn, black converse. I also had a black coat on me, which I tugged closer upon feeling the cold breeze that blew past. It was already seven o'clock and the contact wasn't here.

"Psst!"

I looked up, scanning the area around me, finding a fat man on the bench across from me, cane underneath his large hand, sausage fingers curled around it.

He wasn't making direct eye contact with me.

"Wh-"

"Come over here, and don't look at me." He whispered harshly.

"But there's no one here to see us."

He groaned, his hand now visibly twitching in irritation. I sighed, and sat next to him. I sat at the edge of the bench as to not trigger his paranoia once more.

"I have heard a lot about you, Lucy Reaper, owner of Reaper Industries. You are one of the biggest Cocaine distributors in the country. So, tell me, why is a drug kingpin like you in Los Santos all of a sudden?"

I let out a loud laugh. This guy impressed me. And to talk to me like I was just some normal person took guts. Guts I didn't desire to spill on the floor. No one got my contact information that easily. And if they did, they wouldn't be so bold as to meet me alone in the dark. He meant no harm, only business. "I wanted more of a challenge. I wanted to do something I could feel accomplished about. Why? Who're you?"

"I can find you missions. Heists. Anything. You just let me know, and I'll hook you up. My name is Lester, and I could use someone like you. You're smart. But are you agile? Have you killed anyone?"

"I've killed a lot of people, and you know that. How else could I be this successful?" I questioned. I stood up. "Obviously you have my number, you let me know when you have something for me to do." I started to walk away, but then I stopped. "How many others do you have?"

"A few. But they're connected with a guy named Lamar. All from different towns. Lamar showed them the ropes, but you don't need training wheels. You already know the game. I know you do. I suggest you avoid Lamar Davis, and Gerald. They're known to steal from the Vagos. And for your own sake, I'm cutting you off from interacting with Trevor Philips. He's in the meth business, but I want you to be a little more . . . . "Legit" before you meet him. No sense in you working for another drug business if you own one, so when he has a non-work related job, I'll notify you. For now, keep your schedule open. I have a bank heist for you. Flecca Bank. I'll be seeing you."

I nodded. Smart to avoid interaction with other drug members. But maybe I should pay Lamar and Gerald, since they're stealing my product. No one steals from me.

I shook my head. Not yet, Lucy. Don't go fucking shit up just yet.

I sighed, arriving home to find the empty house somewhat comforting. I parked the Banshee in the garage, examining my other cars. My Protegen T20, my Zentorno, my Kuruma, my Rusty Rebel, my Bodhi, and my newest addition, my Reaper. Come on, I had to have that car. It was my last name.

These were all my most cherished vehicles, but the Banshee was always my prized vehicle. I went inside my house, and lay on the floor, curling up into a ball. It was uncomfortable, but I was able to fall asleep.

\--

Within the next few weeks, my house was fully furnished with the necessities. A television, a couch, a kitchen table, a coffee pot, pots and pans, silverware, a bed and a few lamps for the bedroom and livingroom. But that was all I needed, leaving my house seemingly empty and giving it the appearance of looking bigger than it actually was.

I made myself a cup of coffee and started to reminisce. Since I've been in LS, I've robbed the Flecca bank, broke a man out of prison, raided the Humane Labs, and robbed the Pacific Standard Public Deposit bank. I even killed a few targets and exploded a few trucks for Lester, and I even worked for Martin Madrazo and helped him take out a few targets as well. He became a friend of mine, although he was a terrible husband, as I met his wife and his mistress. It disgusted me, but he was a man of power, so I decided not to say much to him.

I was currently in my house, sending out my orders to everyone. I noticed Carlos was sitting on my couch. I smiled at him, but this caused him to shift uncomfortably and quickly look down at his phone.

"How long have you been here?" I questioned.

"Thirty minutes," he spoke, texting. I nodded, sitting next to him. He put his phone down and looked at me. "I actually wanted to ask you a question," he spoke, I could see him fiddling with his hands. I frowned.

"Alright?" I questioned nervously, crossing my arms along my chest. I was wondering what he was going to say.

"I wanted to know—"

The door burst open, revealing a bunch of Ballas. They ran in, I grabbed my Special Carbine and took cover behind a wall, Carlos doing the same as he took out his pistol.

I started to open fire, doing my best to kill the men who were getting dangerously close to me first. I started to reload as fast as possible when a Balla charged towards me, I grabbed the front of his gun and pushed it away while my other hand snapped his wrist. He let go of the gun and let out a deafening scream.

"You bitch!" he growled, grabbing me by the neck and slamming my head into the wall so hard my vision went blurry. I let out a gasp, feeling myself go limp in his hold. A deafening pop erupted, and I felt the man's blood soak my clothes and skin as Carlos popped a cap in the man's head.

"Lucy?" I heard him urgently speak to me, his hands grabbing me as I started to fall down. I couldn't stop myself from falling. He pulled me so I was resting my head into his lap, and started to phone our medics. I felt myself slip out of consciousness.

\--

When I woke up, everything was white. The walls, the bright lights, the curtains around me. I sat up slowly, taking in the environment I was in. I turned to my left to a heart monitor, and a few IV's. I also had a few wires connected to my skin. I was in a hospital room. I frowned, looking down at my hands. My hair pooled in my lap, and I noticed how long my hair had grown and gasped. It went from mid-back length to ass-length. How long was I here for?

I turned to look at the nurse who had walked into the room. I slowly propped myself up, letting out a groan as my muscles moved for what felt like the first time in a million years. She gasped and jumped back as if she had seen a ghost, her eyes were wide and filled with terror.

"How long was I out for?" I questioned.

"Two years. . ." She gasped before running out of the room, screaming for a doctor. Two years? Two years? I started to hyperventilate, and turned to look around me. I looked in the mirror. I looked the same, but my hair was longer.

I thought back to the last thing I remembered, and voices started to rush back to me. People speaking to me during my coma.

Carlos took over my business for now, he also told me he was in love with me. . . Wait, Carlos was in love with me? So that's what he wanted to tell me.

Lester complained to me about how I should be helping him. A few of my old Las Venturas friends visited.

I started to scramble for my belongings after getting out of the bed and carefully removing the IVs, a common thing to do in movies that I was usually completely against. I tried not to collapse straight onto the floor when I swung my feet over the side of the bed and helped myself out of it.

The first person I rang was Carlos, hopping out of the hospital window with all of my belongings. I landed on my feet, but quickly fell straight onto my ass. I let out a hiss as my muscles practically screamed at me for that move.


	3. Michael, Franklin, and Trevor

I called Carlos five times to no avail. Where was he? I was starting to get worried, my fingers trembling each time I clicked on his name to call again.

I was in a trance of endless ringing, but I snapped out of it to make another phone call. Lester.

I sighed and called Lester now. He answered. "Hello?" he questioned almost in disbelief.

"Lester. I'm awake." I was heading over to the nearest parking lot. I was about to get a new car.

"Took you long enough. . . Some stuff happened while you were gone," Lester sighed. "Big surprise there."

"I know," I sighed. "Fuck! Where's Carlos?"

"Carlos died a week ago."

"Wait, what?" I screamed, feeling myself start to hyperventilate. I had to lean onto the nearest solid object around me. The wall of the hospital. "What the fuck is going on, Lester?" I felt my legs start to go numb, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and my body started to sweat. I was going into panic mode. I was out for two years. . . Two fucking years!

"Calm the fuck down! Carlos took over the business after you fell into your coma, and once the Ballas caught wind of who exactly was running the organization, they attacked and killed him a week ago. Since then, I have been handling your bank and shipments, and as payment I have removed 50k for making sure you didn't go bankrupt while hospitalized. Your welcome."

The Ballas.

I clenched my fist, slamming it against the side of the hospital, letting out a ferocious scream as I started to continue my venture to find the parking lot. I was no longer in pain, that was all masked by my crazed surge of anger. I could feel my blood pressure rise just at the sound of that damned rival gang who had taken me out.

The Ballas.

I let out another scream of anger, causing Lester to make a tiny sound in surprise, and I was sure he could feel the anger radiating off of me through the phone call.

"We need to kill as many Ballas as we can." I growled. "Do you have any guys or gals to back me up? I'll pay them well. I just need those motherfuckers to pay for what they did to Carlos, and to me, and to my fucking business."

"I can call a few people. Meet at my house."

"Okay," I spoke, hanging up the phone. I felt the rage inside of me bubble.

No one kills my right hand man, no one knocks me out, and no one steals my business from me.

I walked up to a parked Dominator and smashed open the window. The alarm sounded as I started to hotwire the car. I got inside the car and drove to my old house, praying it was still there.

\--

Carlos had taken care of my house. He had taken care of my cars, and even kept them shiny and waxed. I felt a pang of regret and guilt for not talking to Carlos before I "died", I knew he had cared for me and I ignored it. He did all of this for me even after the two-year mark had passed since my coma. I checked the date. It was two years and three months since the coma.

He was the best right-hand man a person could ask for, and a good shoulder to lean on. It'd be a while until I found a headstrong man or woman like Carlos to assist me, and it would be even longer before I could forgive myself for what happened to him. I didn't ask him to take on my business, but he did it anyways in order to support me. He would have made a good boyfriend, although I never saw him in that light, but I had started to regret the fact that I never made any moves. That I never gave him a shot. It just took a special type of man to spark my interests, and it wasn't him. He would have been better for me than my "type," but it wasn't my choice to decide now anyways. It was all up in the air, the "what if"s and the seared image of Rosa Reyes, and the fact that her father was now buried under. I hadn't been there to protect him, although he would have argued it was his duty to protect me. After ten years of complete loyalty, I should have given him a chance. He was a loyal man, a loyal worker, and a great father.

Another name to add to my list.

Another close friend or family member in the ground.

But that's how life was in this business.

I cursed to myself, shaking the terrible thoughts in my head as I walked into my closet to put on a new outfit. I changed my clothes to a pair of black, ripped jeans and a white tank top along with high-heeled boots. I put on a heavy utility armored vest and grabbed my gun, taking my Banshee keys, driving as fast as possible to Lester's. when I arrived, there was a black Tailgater, a white Buffalo and a red Bodhi around Lester's house. I got out of my Banshee, parking right behind the red Bodhi, and walked up the steps towards Lester's house and knocked. The door unlocked after the camera scanned me, and I pushed my way through it, storming over to Lester who was surrounded by three men.

One of them was a young, handsome African American man with a very strong build. He wore a tight black long-sleeved shirt and baggy, grey pants, his white shoes standing out as they had no stains whatsoever.

Next to him was a suited, well-presented Italian man with black hair, neatly combed and brushed. He had nice, black shiny shoes on to compliment his suit.

The last guy, the guy closer to Lester was a scruffy man with patchy, dark hair wearing a stained, white shirt and bloodied sweat pants.

I ignored them momentarily to start in on my rage.

"I wake up to this fucking bullshit? What the actual fuck! Please tell me where these cock-sucking Ballas are, I am going to unleash hell on them!" I shouted without introducing myself to the three men. There was no time to be polite.

"Woah, look at this fiery one." Said the man in the stained outfit, his eyes obviously zeroing in on my ass.

I ignored the man, eyes locked on Lester as he started to type on his computer. "Looks like the Ballas are planning another hit on your house. They're going to take all of your cars and possessions and sell them. They don't know you're awake."

I nearly punched a wall in anger. "We'll be there to fuck them up, then. I'm going to use their skin for my couches and make their teeth into fucking necklaces, after I rip them out one by one out of their stupid fucking heads!" I turned to look at the three men. "You guys with me?"

I examined each of them, but my eyes mainly locked on the scruffy man. He looked impressed at my words, and a bit taken back as the other two men looked at me as if I was crazy. The scruffy man's look caused me to feel shy under his gaze, and I felt my cheeks heat up as we made eye contact. He had a sexy demeanor. I adverted my eyes away, clearing my throat as I looked at the two others. "I know you guys don't know me, but I'll offer 25k to each of you for your help. They're not taking my business down."

"Atta girl," the scruffy one spoke. "What's your name again, sugar tits?"

"Lucy Reaper. And you are?"

"Trevor Philips of Trevor Philips Enterprises."

I let out a whistle. He was part of a huge meth business.

"And you?" I asked the kid.

"Franklin."

"I'm Michael." Michael spoke when he saw my eyes turn to look at him expectantly. I nodded.

"Nice to meet you all. Wish we could have met under better circumstances, but of course I've been out cold for two years. Two fucking years, god damn it! Those assholes!" I shouted. "Let's go! You guys follow me, I only have two seats available. Lester could get in my car." I started walking out of the car before they could even respond, rushing to my Banshee.

"Whew, nice car!" Michael commented, I smiled at him.

"My prized possession."

I got into the car as the guys got into theirs. We waited for Lester to get to my car, but he was taking a while.

"Hey, Les! Get your ass in the car!" Trevor shouted.

"Fuck you!" Lester retorted. After a few moments, Lester opened my car door and got in with much difficulty. I floored it and started to drive to my house, but I slowed down once I remembered my car was way faster than the guys' vehicles. The drive didn't take too long, but it felt like it took centuries. I was itching to destroy the Ballas.

Once we got to my home, I sent each Vagos in the area the text that I was alive and breathing, and I needed backup at my house. I opened the door for everyone and started to grab weapons. I turned on the radio to Channel X.

"Wow, hey Trevor, she likes the same crap you do," Michael commented.

Trevor mimicked him angrily, Franklin laughed at this interaction and I couldn't help but smirk a little. The screech of tires stopped me dead in my tracks. "Okay boys, if you see Vagos, don't shoot. If you see Ballas, open fuckin' fire." I opened the door, peering my head out. Ballas.

Trevor ran next to me, screaming in a rage as we started to unload on the cars. One of them took so much damage it exploded, the force of the explosion killing the men who were hiding behind it. I felt Franklin and Michael push past us to get to other vantage points, giving us the opening to destroy the cars that kept coming up. Eventually, my boys in yellow screeched up, unloading on all the Ballas who showed up.

By now, my street was filled with cars and people opening fire. It was a bloody battle as we mowed down the fuckers who tried to take my business, up until there was one Balla left. I held my hand up to cease fire, and approached him. I grabbed him by the ear and yanked him up toward me. "You tell your superiors that they can suck my big fat juicy cock if they think they can take over my mother fucking business, and everything I worked for, you hear?" I shouted, he cringed as I took a knife out of my pocket. "I'll cut your fucking ear off if you don't answer me, boy!"

"O-okay! Alright, I-I'm sorry!" he squealed. I dropped him, kicking him in the leg, watching as he scurried off to one of the undamaged vehicles. He got in and drove off. I nodded to the Vagos, who nodded back wordlessly and drove off. I turned to look at Trevor. "We make a hell of a team."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved his hand dismissively as he walked back into my house and headed for my glass of whiskey. It was probably aged by now, and I wondered if it would taste terrible, on account of the fact it had been open for two years.

"Man, you work for the Vagos?" Franklin questioned.

I laughed, shaking my head.

"No, no, they work for me."

Franklin seemed a little perturbed, he turned and followed Michael who had let out a large sigh of relief before sitting on my couch.

As promised, I walked down to my heist room where I also kept a vault of emergency money, and brought the fat stacks up to them. I gave them each a cut of the profit, then sat down at my kitchen table.

"Man," I sighed. "Felt like they got to me just yesterday, it's weird that it's been two years. . . " I spoke while sending out shipments on my phone and ordering people to get old customers back. I was back in business.

"Yeah yeah, well, I have to go. Michael, can you take me home?" Lester questioned. Michael broke his gaze off of me for a moment. "Huh? Yeah, yeah." He spoke. He turned to look at me once more. "Hey, nice to meet you. Seems you're good with all this, maybe in the future we could call you up for some help. See you guys."

"Please do," I spoke, setting my phone down as Lester and Michael left.

"Hey, kid, come with me. We'll go get some drinks." Trevor spoke to Franklin. Trevor realized I was staring at him, and turned to look at me. "What?"

"Just. . . Thinking." I spoke, standing up. "I'll be seeing you guys around." I started to head to my bedroom. Once I heard them exit my home, I hopped into the shower and moaned as hot water cascaded down my skin, and relaxed my muscles.

I smiled to myself, eyes fluttering closed as a soft sigh left my lips. I felt so. . . Alive.


	4. Passed out Trevor

I decided to take my Rusty Rebel out for a spin.

It was completely customized, and didn't look as gross once I had customized it a bunch. It was pink now, a color I wasn't too fond of but it looked cute on the truck. I had an upgraded engine for it and everything. It was a beast to drive, and wicked fast for a truck.

I was driving down the hill to get to the bar, but I stopped when I saw Trevor slumped against a building. I parked next to him and got out. He didn't even notice a truck had parked next to him.

I got down to tap his shoulder, and he jolted awake. "Wha, what?!" he shouted. I flinched.

"Woah, buddy. You good?"

He rubbed his face tiredly. "Yep, I'm good. What are you doing here?"

"I was just exploring in my Rebel and found you sitting on the side of the road. Want me to take you home?"

He laughed. "I live in Sandy Shores, but I've been staying at my friend's cousin's house in Vespucci Beach."

"I don't mind taking you there," I spoke. I headed to the truck and got into the driver's seat, waiting for him. He got into the truck and sat next to me, letting out a loud groan as I put Vespucci Beach into the GPS system, and started to drive.

"So where are you from originally?" Trevor questioned. I frowned, I didn't know he really gave a rats ass.

"Las Venturas. I fucking hate it here, though, too many people. Self-entitled sonsa bitches."

Trevor snorted. "You're right. That's why I prefer my lil cozy home in Sandy Shores. Not so many people. I miss my trailer, man."

"Sounds amazing," I spoke. "You should take me there sometime. I'd love to check it out. Anything is better than this dump."

"You got that right."

I bit my lip, shifting my gaze to look at him. This is the type of guy Carlos would try to protect me from. I glanced over at him, then chuckled.  
"What's so funny? Are you laughing at me? Huh?"

I smiled. "No, it's just interesting. Owner of a huge meth business and owner of a huge cocaine business in the same vehicle. Feels like we're total badasses."

Trevor turned his head to look at me, he didn't say a word, he just kept his eyes glued to me. I swallowed nervously, my gaze shifting underneath his dominant one.

"Huh, I guess you're right," he spoke. "So do you think more Ballas will come after you?"

"Not for a while," I spoke. "We killed at least half of their gang, if not more. Vagos probably have more gang members than them, now. They understand how pissed off I am. I nearly tore that last Balla to shreds after the shootout. Stupid motherfucker," I shook my head, my hands gripping the wheel a bit tighter. "Fuck with my shit. . .I'll teach them."

From the corner of my eye, I saw a small smirk tug at Trevor's lips, he turned his head to look out of the window again. "Cute little truck you have here."

"Gotta love trucks, right?" I laughed. Wow, I sound like a moron. We started to get closer to Vespucci. "You know, I wasn't kidding about the Sandy Shores thing. I'd like to go there once." I turned to look at him, my truck starting to slow down as we reached Vespucci.

"Turn left here, and then make another right," Trevor spoke. I did as he said, and parked in front of the apartment he pointed at. He stepped out of the truck and walked around to my door. "We can go to Sandy Shores tomorrow. I have to go talk to my business partner."

"Sounds good," I spoke, my eyes locked with his. We both stared at each other for a while before he frowned.

"You look like you wanna fuck me," he spoke.

"You may be right," I spoke, winking before driving off, feeling my cheeks heat up as I laughed softly.


	5. Sandy Shores

I walked outside of my house to find Trevor in his Bodhi waiting for me. I was wearing a cheap, purple and blue sundress that went down to the middle of my thighs, and tan sandals. He examined me before I jumped into the passenger seat, setting my purse down on the floor of the truck.

My dress raised up a little when I took my seat, and I could see Trevor examining my exposed thighs. I raised my eyebrow at him and smirked. "You look sexy." Trevor murmured.

I winked at him before he slammed on the gas, and we started to book it for Sandy Shores. We blew through red lights and listened to Channel X, jamming out, and cussing at bad drivers. During the ride, I turned to him and grinned, staring at his sexy lips. He didn't seem to notice me eye-fucking him. Good. I turned my head and looked out at the horizon as he drove, feeling comfortable and relaxed with Trevor.

\--

We arrived at Sandy Shores.

It was definitely sandy, that was for sure.

There weren't many residents, or many homes. Most of what I saw were run-down trailers surrounded by weak fencing, along with grown out weeds and muddy lawns.

The folks out here were all rednecks, which made me shift in my seat uncomfortably. Being half-Filipino meant getting shit from these types of people.

Trevor and I stopped at a gas station to refill the tank, and while he went inside to pay and get some snacks and drinks for us, my fears became a reality as a large woman with messy brown hair in nothing but a tank top and shorts approached me, pointing a fat finger at me with a disgusted expression. "What're you doing out here, you ching-chong?"

"Fuck off, porky," I growled. "Or I'll jump out of this truck and kick your ass."

Another person who was filling up their tank overheard and pointed their shotgun at me. "Fuckin Asian, get the fuck outta here."

I hesitated, turning to see Trevor as he walked out with handfuls of drinks and snacks. He seemed to realize what was going on and growled, throwing the items into my lap and took out a gun. "You making fun of her? Huh?"

"What's she doing in our town, huh? Are you some sorta Jap lover?"

"First of all, she isn't Japanese!"

"I'm Filipino. Half." I spoke softly.

"Yeah, see! Half! Filipino! And second of all, fuck you!" he shouted. "Bunch of racist imbreds! She barely even looks Asian, but that's not the point!" he pulled a gun out. "Can't handle people who don't fit your description of normal? Huh?! GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE! BEFORE I KILL YOU! ALL OF YOU!" He growled as the people scrambled into their vehicles and fled. I turned to look at Trevor, my savior, with a blush littering my cheeks.

"Thank you."

"I understand how it's like to be judged from being different, sweetheart. I'm Canadian, and people think that it doesn't make me fucking good enough for this country! How dare people think that?!" he growled. "Stupid, stupid, stupid idiots!" he was all flustered now. I grinned.

"You're pretty awesome."

"Thanks, sweet-ass."

I snorted. "What's with the names?"

"What's with the questions?" he was driving off now. I picked up one of the chip bags he threw on me and a can of Sprunk. I started downing it, realizing how thirsty I was. He snatched it from my hands and took a big gulp, then handed it back to me.

"We're here," he spoke, pulling into a driveway of a trailer. I turned to look at it and smiled. "Home sweet home?"

"Oh, you have no idea, sweetie." He spoke. "RON!" he shouted as he walked around the trailer to the neighbor's trailer. "RON, GOD DAMMIT GET OUT HERE! I WANT YOU TO MEET SOMEONE!"

"Coming, Trevor!" a scared voice called out as a man who appeared to be on coke or crack ran out all wiry and jittery, and all in all intimidated by Trevor. The man wore a faded black fisherman's hat with a red, white and blue line around the base of it. He also wore a plaid, long-sleeved button up which was open to reveal a white shirt, and he also wore tan pants.

"Ron, this is Lucy. Lucy, this is Ron. He's CEO of Trevor Philips Enterprises."

"Pleasure to meet you," he spoke, bowing.

"Okay Ron, don't you have business to take care of?"

"Right on it!" Ron spoke, bolting back to his home. I turned to look at Trevor who started to walk into his trailer. He opened the door and waited for me to scramble in. Once I did, he threw me a beer, which I caught. I examined his house and nearly puked.

"Uhm, no." I stated.

"What?" He questioned.

I pointed at all the trash and roaches. "No."

"What, not nice enough for you, princess?"

"The trailer is fine, it's lovely and not too shabby. But this trash, and mess. . . I'm cleaning it."

"Well, knock yourself out, princess," Trevor spoke as he sat himself down on his couch, turning on the TV as I started to clean around him.

I hadn't realized that hours had passed. I guess I was having too much fun dashing about and making a mess into a clean, neat, happy looking home. It wasn't until I heard Trevor speak for the first time since he gave me permission to clean that I stopped cleaning to look up.

"Hey, you've been cleaning for four hours. Maybe we should go get hammered. As a thank you." Trevor set the TV remote down, and stood up. He looked around his home and whistled. "Shit, it's spotless!"

I smiled, feeling accomplished. "You should see your bedroom."

He walked passed me to my bedroom, finding every piece of clothing organized in his closet and his bed was made. "Damn, thorough. Okay, c'mon, let's go. You're depressing me with your OCD cleaning."

I snickered. "I couldn't stand another minute in here without cleaning. Sorry."

"Hey, hey. Mi casa es tu casa. You treat it as you like, I don't care," he spoke, starting to walk out his front door before he turned to look at me. "Seriously, I don't." he spoke and then turned back to walk outside the door, jogging over to his Bodhi as I hurried behind him. I got into the passenger seat and looked at the sky, seeing it was already dark out. Wow, no kidding. Four damn hours cleaning. It was already seven o'clock.

He started to drive, and I could tell he had been to this place often due to how quickly and effortlessly he drove to the location. I pulled out my phone, expecting to see a message until I remembered that Carlos was gone. I swallowed hard. Time to drink to him.

I swung my door open once we reached the bar, and walked around the bed of the truck to walk behind Trevor as he started to walk to the entrance. I examined the bar. It was a green, dirty yet sturdy building with a Pisswasser logo above the roof of the front porch, which was held up by four, faded red wooden pillars. There was a brown couch in the front left of the building which actually looked quite comfy.

I tilted my head upwards to see the giant, yellow neon sign. YELLOW JACK INN.

I walked in with Trevor as an older, red headed lady wearing a denim jacket and pants gave him a look of what looked like warning. "Hey, I'm on a date!" Trevor spoke, pointing to me as I blushed softly. "You can't kick me out in front of the gal!"

She let out a defeated sigh and gestured to the wooden bar table, there were two seats available left. I took the one farthest to the right so I could avoid being in direct contact with people in the bar. I didn't want to deal with racism while drunk, I'd kick the ass of anyone who dare challenge me like that.

Trevor sat down as well, blocking off my view from everybody else as the red headed lady placed two Pisswassers in front of us.

"New here?" Janet asked, leaning against the counter as she cleaned a shot glass with a white towel.

"Just visiting," I spoke, taking a swig of Pisswasser.

She nodded. "What's your name?"

"Lucy. And yours?"

"Janet. Nice to meet you, sweetie," she spoke, then gave Trevor a hard look. "You be nice to this one here, okay? Seems like a good gal."

"Oh, yeah, thanks, I was really looking for some advice." Trevor spoke in a highly sarcastic voice, causing Janet to mutter under her breath and walk to the other side of the bar where a few other customers were waiting for refills of their glasses. Trevor turned to me. "I'm banned here, so I had to tell her we were on a date. She wouldn't fuck me over like that." he took the biggest gulp of beer I've ever seen a person drink without grimacing or pursing their lips. He acted as if it was water to him. Hm.

I took a few small sips of my drink, eyes shifting to my hands before I looked back up, scanning the room.

"Why so many tats?" Trevor questioned, looking at me. I had cards tattooed on the upper left side of my chest, a collage of skeletons on my left arm, a skeleton kissing a woman on my upper right arm, and Frankenstein's monster's wife right below that tattoo. On my stomach, I had a crying woman with a mask in her hand, which covered half her face, and on my back I had a large dragon.

I shrugged. "Some of them have meaning, some don't. Skeleton collage represents the death in my life, skeleton kissing a woman is life and death, and the one on my stomach with the crying woman with a mask is to symbolize the shell I broke recently. People wanted me a certain way and I had to wear a mask, but I'm strong enough to take off the mask and reveal myself. The other tattoos have zero meaning. How about you?" I questioned, looking at him. "Cut here?" I spoke, my hand slightly grazing the dotted line. "I like that."

He turned his left side to me and lifted his shirt to show me a tattoo that said, "R.I.P. MICHAEL 1965-2004 BROTHER."

"This is for Michael when he died." Trevor spoke, rolling his eyes. "And then conveniently came back from the dead."

"Wait. . .Huh?" I questioned, swishing my drink in its bottle. I realized it was already half empty.

"Oh, you don't know?" Trevor spoke, shifting in his seat. "Michael and I are old friends. Used to be really close. Like brothers. Well, nine years ago, we do a bank robbery in Ludendorff, North Yankton with our friend Brad. We take the money and leave in our getaway vehicle, try to get away from the damn cops, and realize there's a train about to blow through the road we need to pass for us to lose the cops. Well, we don't make it, the train hits us, we spin out, Michael urges us to push through. But then boom, Brad is shot and goes down, then boom, Michael is hit too. I try to fight off the cops, trying not to leave Mikey who has taken a lot of damage, but I get overwhelmed with them and practically chased out of there. Michael doesn't respond to anything, I can't find him, he's gone. He died. Brad got locked up, he still emails me, and fuck, I feel sorry for the poor bastard. . .What he must've woken up to." He clenched his fists, and during this story I could feel his agitation growing and growing. I hesitated, lifting my hand to put it on his right shoulder, but decide against it when I realize just how tense he is. I put my arm on the bar table, tapping my fingers on the wood nervously. I took a swig of Pisswasser, and motioned for another. Janet switched out glasses for me, I nodded as a silent thanks.

"So he made you think he was dead?" I questioned, taking a sip.

"He was in witness protection with the FIB this whole, damn time taking the entire cut of profit from that job in order to buy that big stupid house he lives in with his fucking family. 'Father of the year'? Hah, yeah right. You couldn't depend on him for shit," Trevor spat as he polished off the last of his drink, Janet placing another bottle in front of him as if she knew how long it usually took him to finish off his drinks. He started to chug it as Janet placed one more in front of him. She walked away, and he didn't touch this one just yet. I could tell he wanted to punch something.

I nervously took a swig.

"Why are you so nervous now? Fuck," Trevor spoke. "Feels like I'm sitting next to a meth head."

I took my hands off the table to rest them on my lap. "I've heard some things about your anger, and don't want to let my guard down." I was speaking honestly. He was one of the most ruthless distributors I've ever heard of, and I remembered specifically avoiding all locations he'd potentially be at just to avoid the changes of his rage getting me brutally murdered.

"I have some respect for women, believe it or not. I'm not going to hurt you out of anger," he shook his head. "You're tough when facing the men who put you in a coma and now, here while I speak, you're shaking in your boots."

I shrugged. "Can't be too cautious." I spoke.

"Enough seriousness, let's get shitfaced," Trevor spoke as he lifted his beer bottle to his lips, eyes closing as he drank more, the anger slowly dissipating off of him as he became more inebriated by the minute. The alcohol must've been settling in.

\--

I woke up to the sound of a large thud, followed by at least ten cuss words. I groaned, gripping my head as I slowly placed my hands on either side of the surface I lay on to lift myself up, my left hand pushing harder in order to roll myself over. I lay on my back now, hands rubbing my eyes. I let out a groan. What the fuck happened?

I sat up to find myself in my now crumpled dress, covered in dirt. I sighed, not entirely giving a shit about that as I swung my legs over the tiny crack between the bed and the wall in order to get up. I froze once I made the connection as to whose bed exactly I just got out of. Trevor's.

I looked at myself. Fully clothed. Still wearing my underwear. Not sore anywhere. I quickly trotted into the kitchen/livingroom where I found Trevor laying on the floor, a pan on the ground by his feet. I assumed he had somehow tripped over it, then refused to get up because he was too messed up to.

"Trevor?"

"Huh?" he questioned, his face staying planted to the trailer floor. He was wearing a brown jacket and his underwear.

Nothing had happened. I knew that now. "Never mind," I spoke, deciding to talk to him when he chose to get up. I sat down on the right end couch, then allowed my body to fall to the left end so I was laying down. I groaned once more as I fell back asleep.


	6. The Ballas Jewel Heist/Taking Care of Business

I woke up to a ringing cell phone, and let out a long groan. I picked up the damned object and pressed the phone on my ear. "What?" I hissed into the phone.

"Where are you? I've been trying to get a hold of you." Lester spoke.

"What for?" I whispered upon realizing Trevor had fallen back to sleep too.

"I think I have a score for all of you. You know, a getting-to-know-you heist. Teamwork. You'll be able to show the boys what you got. You in? I've got Michael, and Franklin here, but we can't seem to get a hold of Trevor. Do you know where Trevor is?"

"Passed out on the floor," I spoke. "Should be up soon."

"And where are you?"

"Sandy Shores."

"Wh-. . .Why are you out there? Get Trevor, and haul him back home! We have work to do!"

I hung up just as Trevor started to come to. He let out a long groan. "What the fuck was that?" he questioned.

"Fucking Lester needs us at his house, so we have to hurry over.

"God dammit!" he shouted before getting up off of the bed. I looked into his closet and pulled out a black shirt with flames that read "BALLS OF FIRE" on the back of the shirt. I also pulled out a pair of black pants.

"You should wear this," I suggested. "It would look nice on you."

He examined the outfit and mumbled slightly, putting it on to my surprise. His eyes scanned me questioningly, I guessed he also wasn't too sure on what happened last night.

"I don't know, I'll just change when I get home. Fuck it." I sighed, waving my hand lazily. "Want me to drive?"

"I'm fine driving, I've done this plenty o' times, sweets." He took his car keys from the counter in the kitchen and walked out of the door with me.

I took my gun out. "I wanna shoot people as we drive by them."

He seemed surprised at this. "Really?" he questioned as he started to drive.

"Yep," I spoke confidently as I pulled my gun out and pointed it at someone, who started to run away screaming. I created havoc, a town full of screaming, scared people as they scurried every which way, one even ran onto the road. Trevor ran them right over, and I let out a deafening laugh, causing him to look at me with what looked like pride.

We arrived at Lester's house, and Trevor parked behind the Tailgater. He jumped out of the truck effortlessly and started to approach the run down house, me following behind, trying to walk a little faster in order to keep up. The door unlocked, allowing Trevor and I to walk in. He bowed to allow me to walk in front of him, slapping my ass as I passed him. I let out a squeal and smirked at him, walking into the room with everyone.

"Where were you guys?" Lester questioned. He was skeptical. "You didn't answer until the third call," Lester said, pointing to me accusingly. I sighed.

"Look, I wanted to see Sandy Shores, Trevor took me there, we got shit faced at the bar, and I knocked out in his house." Franklin and Michael wordlessly exchanged suspicious and skeptical glances, causing me to lift my hands up in defense. "Hey, hey!" I spoke up. "Can't a gal get shit faced with a pal without getting stupid accusations? We didn't sleep together, we woke up in two different places, fully clothed."

"Well," Trevor spoke.

I sighed. "Well, I for one was fully dressed, panties untampered."

"Well they seem fuckin' 'tampered' now, don't they?" Trevor spoke with a groan, throwing his arms up.

I rolled my eyes and decided not to encourage that, looking at Lester with my arms crossed over my chest. My mouth was pursed in a tight line. I did not fuck around when it came to business. I tried my best to keep it professional. "Lester? I recall you calling us over for a heist, not for a 'who slept with who' charade."

Lester shook his head, snapping out of the accusing glare he held on us before turning back in his chair to glance at his computer. "Right. Well. Lucy, you might find this one interesting. The Ballas have a warehouse full of stolen jewels. In order to compete with your business, they added on more revenue, more things to steal and sell, and jewels are easier to sell than cocaine and heroine. And, since you're the largest distributor for cocaine, they aren't making any revenue off of cocaine anyways."

"I'm listening," I spoke, straightening my back, clinging to every word he spoke. Oh, please let me destroy their operation, please please please.

"We're going to destroy their operation."

Yes!

I grinned, pumping my arm in the air. Victorious!

Lester continued on. "It won't be as easy as you think. We need a thermal charge from Merryweather, a Ballas disguise and an armored vehicle. The Ballas disguise will be a piece of cake to find, just separate a Balla from the herd and knock him out, and take his clothes. but the thermal charge and armored vehicle will be hard to get our hands on.

I scoffed. "I own an armored vehicle. Is a Kuruma okay?"

Lester grinned. "Didn't think you still had that, seeing how hot that car is in the market."

"Carlos kept it under lock and key, he kept all of my cars sparkling clean and strong." I spoke. Too bad he's dead now.

"Alright. Well, then, all we need is the thermal charge, and the disguise. Lucy, do you remember how to hack?"

I blinked. "Erm, it feels like I stole a thermal charge for the pacific standard heist, and hacked the bank vault security just a few days ago. I'm pretty sure I'm still good. I can crack it."

"Excellent, you guys are amongst one of the best professionals around," Lester spoke confidently to the guys. That made me feel really good about myself. "She's just reckless," he spoke again, giving me a look. "and trigger-happy."

"So how are we going to go about this?" I questioned.

"Franklin, you're going to be the guy to knock a Balla out and take his clothes. Michael, Trevor, you two are gunmen. Lucy, you're a hacker and the getaway driver. It's your car, after all. You are going to drive the Kuruma to the back entrance of the warehouse after you drop Franklin off at the front entrance," Lester spoke, holding up a blueprint of the warehouse. How the hell did he manage to get that? "And Lucy, you're going to park there. Michael and Trevor are going to stay with you. Franklin, you're going to walk in and avoid drawing attention to yourself. Start mimicking their work, organize the jewels and then walk to the back of the building to the back entrance when they aren't looking, and unlock the doors. You're going to let Lucy through the back doors while you make a distraction in the front of the warehouse, by saying you saw some Vagos outside of the joint on the street right out front. Lucy will rush to the vault room, place a thermal charge on the gates blocking the vault, and then hack the machine keeping the vault locked.

She's going to go in, and while she's grabbing the jewels, Michael and Trevor are going to get out of the car and help gun down the Ballas when they realize they've been duped. Michael, Trevor, Franklin, you all will shoot them down, and when Lucy has taken all the jewels with Trevor's assistance carrying them out, since those jewels are too heavy for one person alone, she's going to drive to the Kuruma through the back doors, and you all will jump in, and she'll get everyone out of there before the Ballas call for backup. Then whammo, you guys get 20,000 each. Sound good?"

"Fuck, killing Ballas? Sounds amazing," I spoke. "When are we doing this, then?"

"Well, Merryweather is delivering thermal charges across Los Santos into Paleto Bay tomorrow morning around nine AM. You're going to take the Palomino Freeway I-1 North onto the Senora Freeway. You'll strike right before you enter Sandy Shores. You're going to block the freeway exit with a cement truck, open fire and take out everyone in the truck and the two Mesas. One of you will jump inside the truck, and grab the case. Then you guys get the hell outta there. Sound good?"

I nodded. "Yep, just. . . " I checked my phone. I had gotten a text message from one of the Vagos in charge of security over my warehouses. Rodrigo.

RODRIGO: We found one of the thieves. Lamar Davis. The fool linked up with Gerald and took a lot of product. You may wanna put an end to their plans before they run us out of business and make us look like chumps.

My blood boiled. Man, I hated thieves.

Me: I'll take care of it. Thanks.

I looked up from my phone now, irritated. My head was pounding.

"Oh, fuck. Do you guys know a Lamar Davis?"

"What about him?" Franklin piped up, eyeing me suspiciously.

"That motherfucker has been robbing me. I need to go pay him a little visit."

"Wait, wait!" Franklin held out his arms to stop me, but then sighed, his arms slowly going back down. "That fool is my friend, he doesn't know what he's doing."

"Oh, oh no," I laughed. "He knows damn well what he's doing. I'm going to personally kill him and Gerald for taking 907 kilos from one of my lab's warehouses. Apparently they've been the fuckin' thieves behind my failed shipments, but this time they took too much to hide. And no one fucks with my business." I growled.

"Look, you don't know what it's like to hustle out there. He's just tryin' to survive. It's the hood life. And . . . Lamar is my friend, we been friends all our lives. And you wanna get along with me, don't you? Since we workin' together?"

"I don't know what it's like? I don't know? I grew up with parents who forgot they had me in their lives, and when they remembered, they beat me senseless. I had to steal food from grocery stores and hold up liquor stores to pay for myself to live until I was fifteen. That's when my aunt and uncle took me in and showed me the business. But I never, NEVER forgot from where I came from. I'm from Las Venturas. I know what it's like to steal and fuck people over for money, but I also knew when to stop taking, and when I'd piss off people who could kill me with just a snap of their fingers. Lamar is either stupid, or fucking desperate. But all that dough he's cashing in is way more than enough to survive in the hood."

Franklin started to visibly get more concerned. "You don't understand, Gerald is the one who makes all that profit! Lamar only gets a piece of the cut."

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You take Lamar to my house. I'm going to talk to him. You can be there as a referee. Got it? Don't tell him where he's going. Or he'll be on the next flight out to fuck knows where. And if you don't bring him to me, I'll find him myself, and I'll do more than just talk to him." I pointed my finger at him. "I am a businesswoman. This is my life. This means more than just money to me, and him disrespecting me by thinking I'm stupid enough to not notice is a slap to the fuckin' face. If this was anyone else, ANYONE else, they'd be dead. And I usually don't kill people myself unless they really disrespect me. So consider this a huge favor."

"Okay, okay," Franklin sighed. "Damn, Lamar." He muttered under his breath, sighing.

"Trevor, I need a ride to my house," I spoke, catching his gaze for the first time since my heated conversation with Franklin. "Please."

"You got it, madam." Trevor spoke, striding to the front door, and I kept my eyes on Franklin up until I heard the front door open. I turned and followed Trevor out of the home. "Sounds like your serious about your business."

"Of course I am," I spoke, getting into his truck. I ran my hand along the door, enjoying the warm feeling of the interior, as it had been sitting in the sun. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, sighing as Trevor started to drive.

Once I opened my eyes, we were already at my house. He must've drove recklessly and ran every red to get here, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't do that, too. I nodded to him, too angry to speak out loud without shouting, and hopped out of his truck. I opened my front door, then switched to my Reaper's keys. I was going to take that baby out in the morning to Sandy Shores. My Banshee was faster, but my Reaper had better handling.

I changed into a pair of black jeans and a black tank top, putting my leather jacket over that. I put on my heeled, black boots and walked up the stairs to the kitchen, where I started to cook dinner for myself. Grilled chicken with brown rice, a side of sliced asparagus with ginger and garlic. I sat at my dinner table alone, eating the meal, my thoughts floating around the empty interior of the room. I felt an aching, lonely feeling. I took a swig of the Pisswasser I had taken from the fridge, and cleared my throat. The lone sound echoed through my empty home.

I placed my fork down after I finished my dinner, the loud clanking noise filling the space in the air as I got up from the creaky chair and washed my dishes. I took the Pisswasser and headed to the living room, leaning forward and placing my feet on the coffee table as I grabbed the remote. I started to flip through.

After about an hour, I heard the doorbell ring. I stood up from the couch and strode over to the door, opening it and wordlessly turning my back to the men before they could see me or even say hi to me. I motioned to the kitchen table.

"Eeerr. . . Okay, girl." Lamar spoke, following Franklin. "Why am I here again?"

"Sit down," I spoke, pointing to one of the kitchen chairs.

"Huh, sorry little lady, I don't take orders like that—"

"Sit your ass down," I spoke, smiling sweetly yet shooting daggers out of my eyes. "Now."

He slowly sat down, eyes hard and pensive as Franklin nervously took a seat next to him.

"Do you know who I am?" I questioned.

"No? Should I?" he questioned, my mouth twitched at this and I could see Franklin kick him under the table.

I slammed my hands on the kitchen table, fury encapsulating me. "I'm Lucy Reaper, you fuck. I run Reaper Industries, and you are so unbelievably lucky I'm partnered up with Franklin or you'd be dead right fuckin' now, got it buddy?" I spoke, pointing at him. His eyes widened, and I could tell he was scared. He did his best to hide it though, did his best to keep his hard face. "I would have you cut up into little pieces and used you as bait for fishing in Paleto Bay, bitch. You don't fuck with me and walk away from it. But Franklin asked of me not to kill you, and I won't. But you need to tell me where Gerald is."

"I ain't no snitch, dawg," Lamar spoke, boldly.

"Listen," I spoke, pointing at him. "I can't kill you, but I can inform every drug distributor and thug in all of San Andreas that you're a little thief and to keep their eyes peeled for your bitch ass. The Vagos work for me, I have those guys cranking out orders for me left and right, I have my shit distributed EVERYWHERE. I have drug lords bow down to me and stay the fuck out of my way because I do not stop until I have done my job. They will look for you if I just as much as say your name. Everyone knows who I am, and soon, they can know who you are, too. And you'll be a bounty. You do not want to be playing any games with me."

Lamar turned to look at Franklin. I could tell he was conflicted, but I didn't care. I lost respect for this guy when he stole.

"Why ain't you sparin' him too?" Lamar questioned.

"Gerald is the guy who set you up for this, you were just the guy who was too stupid to ask questions about who exactly you were stealing from. If you would have come to me asking for work I would have helped you but you, as I do everyone from the streets who need help, but you disrespected me. You slapped me in the face by taking my product. By thinking me a fool. So you tell me where Gerald is, and you and I are a-okay."

"Dawg, this fool as bad as Trevor," Lamar whispered to Franklin before sighing and flashing me a defeated, angry look. "I'll give you Gerald's apartment address. . ." He spoke.

"Write it down." I spoke.

"What?"

"Write. It. Down." I walked to the living room and took a piece of paper from a drawer, along with a pen and walked over to him. I placed the paper and pen in front of him.

Lamar tentatively reached out and took the pen, writing down the address with shaky hands. I watched as he did so. "Franklin, you keep an eye on him, okay?" I spoke, snatching the piece of paper away from Lamar the second he finished writing on the piece of paper. "Warn all your other friends not to fuck with me." I put the paper in my back pocket, and exited the home. I got into my Reaper and drove to Gerald's apartment. I didn't hesitate, I knocked down the door and he drew his gun at me. I already had mine pointed at him.

"Who the fuck are you?"

I laughed, eyes wild. "Ever heard of Reaper Industries? Well, what am I asking, of course you have. . . And I'm Lucy. Lucy Reaper. Nice to meet you."

"Oh shi—" I shot him in the head, then walked out of the apartment. I turned around and walked back to my car, and got back in. I calmly drove away without looking back.


	7. Thermal Charge

Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep!

I groaned and rolled over in my bed, stabbing the alarm clock with the long knife I kept under my pillow, creating a gaping hole in the now broken alarm clock and a giant scratch in the wood of the nightstand. Oh well.

What the fuck. It was 6:00AM and I had to get ready, then drive over to Sandy Shores. I should have just asked Trevor if I could stay over at his house, but last night I got pretty hammered after killing Gerald. It had been a while since I had made a surprise visit to a dealer, and I guess my anger had gotten the best of me. I would have usually had the Vagos pay him a little visit, but it was personal. I felt personally disgraced.

I rolled out of bed and put on a black pair of jeans, black sneakers and a black tank top. I put on a little makeup first before I headed out. I usually didn't do makeup, but I was definitely in the mood to today. I gave myself a smoky eye look with winged eyeliner, and used a blush that would make my cheekbones look more defined. I applied red lipstick and finished it with a nice gloss, and put my hair in a ponytail. My hair drooped from the weight, and I cursed to myself, reminding myself I needed a haircut. Bad. My hair was so long it got in the way for my lifestyle, even though it was absolutely gorgeous. . .But hey, gotta sacrifice sometimes.

I grabbed my keys and headed to my garage, stepping into my Reaper. It was a metallic purple with a pearlescent cream layer, which made the car look smooth and sophisticated. It was absolutely gorgeous from its long spoiler to its limo tinted windows, and its nice Xenon headlights.

My garage door opened and I drove out, starting to head north. I had a few armored vests in the trunk of my car, and enough snacks to help me recover. I yawned and started to make the long venture out, wondering what Trevor was wearing today.

\--

When I got to the meet-up point, Trevor was already there. He was leaning on his car, which was so well-hidden it took me a while to actually realize he was there. His car was parked behind a bunch of dying, large plants about fifteen feet from the freeway exit. I parked my car next to his and checked the time. 8:15. I was early.

I stepped out of my car and walked over to his Bodhi, leaning on it with him. He turned to look at me. "Hm, you're early."

"So are you."

"Well isn't that convenient." He spat defensively, I looked at his outfit. A deep purple bowling shirt with black pants, paired with dark brown shoes. He actually dressed decently today. "So what happened with that Lamar kid?"

"Scared him shitless, killed his friend." I shrugged. "Same ol, same ol."

He scanned me, then turned his head to look back at the freeway. Not too much traffic, but there were still people cutting each other off and cussing each other out, middle fingers were occasionally drawn and crazy insults like "Shit dick" and "You piece of shit!" poured out of the vehicles. The sun was already out, and it was already a bit warm, and I was thankful I was wearing a tank top. I regretted the particular color, of course, because it made things a tad toastier for me.

I ran my foot through the dirt, a small cloud of dust poofing upwards and being taken by the wind, the toes of my boot now a light brown color. I heard the tiny rocks scrape against each other with each sway of my foot. Things were quiet between Trevor and I, so I decided to speak.

"You look nice."

"Glad you think so, sweetcheeks. I did it for you." he shifted his weight to another foot and leaned back on his truck.

I felt my cheeks heat up, so I looked away. Charmer, I see. "Oh, nice."

The air grew warmer as the time passed. I was silently enjoying Trevor's presence, not saying a word as I popped my trunk open, walking up to it at the front of my Reaper. The engine of the car was in the back instead of the front.

I threw Trevor some heavy armor, putting some on myself as well as Michael's car showed up. Him and Franklin got out, and I threw them some heavy armor as well.

They nodded in thanks, and parked the Tailgater behind my vehicle.

"See them." I spoke as the truck showed up in between two Mesas.

"Alright, let's do this. . ." Michael sighed.

I took my sniper rifle out, aiming at the driver of the truck, shooting him in the head. The truck swerved off of the road and crashed through the side divider of the freeway. Trevor, Franklin and I started to gun down the other men who had screeched to a stop with guns drawn. They were all shooting up the two Mesas as I bolted through the back of the truck, ripping the thermal charge from the Merryweather truck and bolted back to where the guys were.

"Holy shit, L! What the fuck was that?!" Trevor shouted.

"Got the job done, didn't I?" I questioned, quickly throwing it into my trunk and hauling ass as they scrambled into their vehicles to follow me. Franklin threw sticky bombs behind us as we made our escape, driving into Sandy Shores and onto desolated areas unlisted on the map. I was on top of a mountain, waiting for the cops to lose me. Once the coast was clear, I drove down the mountain and to our meetup spot. They weren't far from me anyways, I knew I wouldn't have to wait long for them,

Trevor didn't break until he was far too close to my vehicle, I cringed but he slammed on his breaks and just barely missed my car. I groaned and crawled to my passenger seat to get out.

The black tailgater rolled up behind me, stopping as Michael and Franklin walked out. "Now I know what Les meant when he said you were reckless. . ." Michael sighed.

"Yeah, no kiddin'." Franklin said, walking up to me. "You coulda got yourself killed there."

I waved my hand dismissively. "I knew what I was doing. Trust me, I'm a professional." I folded my arms. "Hey, kid, you got the Ballas disguise already?"

"Yeah, I got it just last night," Franklin spoke, I nodded and checked my watch.

"Well, why not do this now?"

"Now?" Michael questioned. "You don't want to game plan a little?"

"We already did with Lester. F walks in as Balla, M and T are gunmen, I hack and get us the fuck outta there. I drive to the back after dropping F off at the front, F walks in and does some work until the coast is clear, he'll unlock the back door and distract everyone in the front and say Vagos drove by, I sneak into the vault room, use the thermal charge on the gate leading to the vault, hack the vault, get in the vault, take the jewels with Trevor's help after he's helped gun down the Ballas as by now they've realized they've been duped, then I drive into the joint, you guys jump in, and we lose them before their backup arrives." I spoke. "Did I miss anything?"

They exchanged glances. "No, you got it all." Franklin said after a moment.

"Glad we have someone who could keep up," Trevor spoke. "Let's do this!"

"Woo!" I threw my hands up.

"You two are fuckin' crazy," Franklin spoke.

"I second that," Michael responded as he started to get back into his tailgater. "We meet at Lester's in an hour to set things up and everything. We done here?"

"I think so," I spoke. I turned to look at Trevor. "Oh yeah, hey so apparently while we were drunk, I bought the house a house down from you," I spoke, then smirked. "And I'm gonna fix it up a little so it doesn't collapse and kill me, and then we'll be neighbors. Somewhat. I'll have two properties."

Trevor's eyebrows raised and he let out a laugh. "Good, someone to get drunk with whose close to home."

I laughed, then checked my phone, seeing I got a message. "Oh, looks like the air conditioning guy is there right now. I've gotta go. Catch you later?" I spoke, he nodded.

"Maybe later I'll come over with a little. . . Housewarming gift. Eh?" he laughed. That Canadian accent, though. "I'll bring over a six pack, and we can drink till I'm pretty."

"You're already so pretty though, dear," I spoke, hand on my chest as I gave him a fake, soulful look. He laughed hard at this, shaking his head as he walked away to his truck.

"See ya, L," he spoke as he drove off. I felt proud for making him laugh, and felt my cheeks heat up not from the heat of Sandy Shores, but from the interaction him and I had just had.

I stepped into my car and drove to my home in Sandy Shores, parking in my garage to protect my car from any potential robbers, and walked inside of my broken down, torn up house. I was going to fix up the little things and make it my own.

\--

I left my Sandy Shores house after tearing off the wallpaper off of my living room walls. It was already cracking and curling off so I was going to either put new wallpaper later, or repaint it. I was thinking of repainting it.

I was also going to rip out the carpet and put tile, since it would be easier to clean if someone inevitably dragged dirt in from outside. I don't know whose bright idea it had been to put carpet in here in the first place, as it was so dusty that just stepping in it caused a tiny poof of dust to pop out, and there was also if you looked close enough, there was a very distinct blanket of dirt and dust along the carpet. I had tried to vacuum, three times actually, but each time my vacuum got so full I had to replace the bag, until it was just the dirt stains or the stains from whatever the last person did when they lived here.

\--

I was currently driving down the highway when I looked in my rearview mirror and saw Trevor's Bodhi behind me. I smiled at the comforting sight. Maybe he could help me with my house.

I put my eyes back on the road since I was going 120mph. I was a little speed demon, but a lot of criminals here were, too.

A Dilettante suddenly cut three lanes to where I was, and breaked as they did it. I honked and swerved into the next lane, as I nearly rear ended him because of it. I understand I was driving pretty fast, but there was no way he didn't see me, and signaling would have been super nice, but whatever.

Los Santos drivers were just awful.

I sighed and got off of my exit, taking surface streets until I reached Lester's tiny, narrow dirty street. I parked behind Franklin's clean Buffalo.

I walked up the steps and opened the door after hearing it click, letting me in, approaching Lester, Franklin and Michael who were all waiting patiently.

"Where's Trevor?"

"I saw him when I was driving on the freeway. In my rearview mirror. He's going to be a few minutes late." I spoke, leaning against the wall.

"You ready?" Michael asked me.

I shrugged, closing my eyes and rolling the back of my head against the wall behind me slowly and rhythmically. "Honestly, it feels like just last week that I robbed that large Pacific Standard bank in Los Santos. Not two years ago. I often forget of the two years of life I missed out on. . . " I sighed. The front door swung open loudly, my head turning to look at Trevor who walked in and started to laugh, pointing at me.

"You, little missy, are a speedster, aren't ya? You reckless thing, you." he laughed, a small smirk crept upon my face, I shook my head and laughed softly. "Anyways, we ready? Huh? How 'bout you, Michael, you fat fuck, eh?"

Michael looked as if he was so done with Trevor. He rolled his eyes and turned to look at Franklin, who seemed to be keeping to himself this whole time. I had barely noticed he wasn't speaking, and realized he must have been avoiding speaking to me.

When I turned to look at him, he didn't meet my gaze. I wondered if I had gone too far with that Lamar kid. Maybe he thought I was some bad bitch and he should be careful around me, now.

"Okay, let's drive over to my garage, you guys can park inside of it and we'll hop inside my Kuruma. Got it?" I spoke, and started to head to the door.

"A woman who takes initiative. Love it!" Trevor shouted from behind me as I hopped into my car and led them to my house. I opened my garage and drove in it as they did too, parking their cars in the large space.

I walked over to my Kuruma, red with black armor around the windows and roof. I got into the driver's seat and waited for the guys to hop in. I saw Trevor scanning my Bodhi, which was the exact same as his except for the clean metal parts and the lack of dirt. It was also a nice, tan color so if it did get dirty, it wouldn't be visible. He seemed to admire it, and then turned to get into the passenger seat of my car as Michael and Franklin took the backseat.

I drove out of my garage and started to book it to the warehouse, my car making a beautiful sound each time it shifted gears. I always drove this thing like a giant go-kart, and got us there quicker than I expected. With, of course, a protesting Michael in the background every time I "nearly smashed into something" or "almost got us all killed."

I dropped Franklin off at the front entrance, and he hopped out in his Balla clothes. I drove around to the rear entrance and waited. While I waited I turned to look at Michael. "But did you die?" I asked.

He looked confused now. "What?"

"But did you die? While I drove?"

"No?" he spoke.

I smiled. "Good enough for me." I heard Trevor snicker as I waited for a text from Franklin. The "okay" for me to sneak in.

It took a few minutes, but I finally got it and snuck in through the back, seeing the Ballas had run out of the front entrance with Franklin standing behind them. "I swore I just saw one of them motherfuckers driving by slowly!" he spoke as they continued searching. I got to the vault gates, which was downstairs, shooting the two Ballas keeping a look out there with my Special Carbine and its suppressor. I placed the thermal charge on the gate. An orange smoke erupted from the gate, but not enough to pour out into the first floor and blow our cover early. The smoke cleared to show a vacant hole where the thermal charge and gate lock used to be, the outer rim a bright, burning orange. I opened the gate a few inches higher than the burning hole as to not burn myself, and ran in to the vault, I started to hack the little machine on the wall.

The fact that these guys had this much security was enough to tell me their revenues weren't so bad lately, but that was about to change.

I hacked through the first bit by finding a set of numbers to click on, and then sifted through to find the right letters for the passcode. "THUGLYF." I laughed quietly as the vault doors clicked open, and bolted in there to start stuffing my bag. There was so much of it I had to text Trevor to come in early, sneakily of course, with the other dufflebag.

After Franklin said coast was clear for him, he snuck down to the vault with me, stuffing his dufflebag to the brim, as mine already was. I could barely zip up the bag. But by the time we both finished filling our bags, there were no more jewels left. Good.

Him and I walked up the stairs as we heard the gunshots start, M and F were currently holding them off as I crept out of the door to put my jewel bag in the trunk of the Kuruma, and dodged the flying bag of jewels that Trevor threw into the trunk from a few feet away. I closed the trunk and shot down the Ballas who had come around the building to secure it, and got into my kuruma.

I put my headset on now, since it was now necessary for me to have it. "When you've taken out most of them, step away from the backdoors, because I'm gonna drive right through them!" I spoke.

"Now!" Franklin shouted after a few minutes, and I drove through the back entrance, ripping the doors off as the boys scrambled into my car. I revved the engine, and ran right over a Balla as I made a circle to get back out of the back entrance, the only entrance big enough for my car, and hauled ass out of there, zooming down the freeway before they could even have backup chase after us.

We were all laughing now, congratulating each other and high fiving each other. "Fuck, man, we did it!" Franklin spoke, as Michael laughed and spoke, "Yeah, man, we did."

I drove us back to my house after dropping the jewels off with Lester, who would work his magic and get us the profit from the jewels, and parked the Kuruma in the garage.

We all got out of our cars as Michael beamed at me. "You're alright, L."

"Thanks, M," I spoke, grinning. "You aren't too shabby either." I turned to look at Franklin. "You, too, kid."

He made eye contact with me now, smiling. "Thanks, you did awesome out there."

"And how 'bout Uncle T?" Trevor spoke, holding his arms out and leaning slightly back.

I giggled. "Uncle T did great helping me with the other jewel bag. And kicking ass and taking names."

"Thaaaank you!" Trevor spoke, as he started to walk over to his Bodhi. I went to my Rusty Rebel and hopped inside of it as Michael and Franklin got in their own cars.

"Race you to Sandy Shores, Trev?"

Trevor grinned. "Whoever loses gets to give Uncle T a striptease."

I rolled my eyes as we both laughed at his stupid joke, Michael and Franklin had quickly driven out of the garage before we rear ended them as we drove out there fast as lightning, zooming past honking cars to beat each other to the freeway. We got to the merging point, and I stepped on the gas and drove first through the merging point, his headlight just mere centimeters away from my truck bed.

We started to race, making the trip seem like mere minutes as we were weaving through traffic, but a car cut me off and he won, taking the exit off of Sandy Shores and taking the sharp left turn to head to home. I groaned and drove behind him, sticking my tongue out at him which he definitely saw in his rearview mirror, since I saw his cheeks shift in what I could only assume was a smile. I couldn't see him head-on, so I didn't know.

We parted ways as he went to his home, and I went to mine, but I realized I forgot to ask for his help. I sighed, turning around to drive to his house. I stepped out of my truck and walked over to his trailer, knocking on the door.

It swung open as Trevor hovered over me. "Yes, loser?" he spoke mockingly, but I knew he was just playing.

"Could you help me? Trying to remodel my house. Need extra hands."

"Sure, sure, got nothing else to do anyway. Please tell me you have Pisswasser."

I grinned. "Hell yeah I do."

"Good," he spoke. I got into my truck and he got into his, even though it was only a two minute walk, but by the time we'd finish with all the hard work, we'd probably be too tired to walk anywhere afterwards. I parked my Rebel in front of my garage—no need to hide it from the neighborhood because they wouldn't take it—and unlocked my front door for Trevor. He walked in, turning right to see the small kitchen, which was in the same space as the livingroom. He turned right to see the bathroom door, and walked down a little farther to see another door that led to my bedroom. He looked at the peeled wallpaper and whistled. "Not too shabby."

"Yeah," I spoke. "I like it. But I'm currently ripping off the wallpaper, and I want to rip the carpet off."

He nodded. "Alright, princess." He spoke, as we started to rip the wallpaper off.


	8. Lemonade

I asked Trevor to hang out at The Yellow Jack with me the day after the heist. He agreed, and I was currently waiting for him in the bar dressed in a leather jacket with a red v-cut and leggings. I wore my hair down in wavy curls, deciding to live with my long hair and make it look gorgeous for a nice night out with Trevor. Something about him made me want to dress up really nice and look pretty.

I shifted in my seat, the high-heeled boots I wore went up mid-calf, and I wore them in confidence as I crossed my legs, and tucked myself into the bar. I was currently drinking a daiquiri when I felt someone walk up behind me before taking the seat next to me. I turned my head, expecting to see Trevor and pursed my blood-red matte lips, looking up out of my lashes to see someone else. A man in a plaid shirt and dirty blue jeans, he smiled through his long, brown beard, his green eyes staring into my rare blue ones.

"Blue eyes on an Asian. How does that work out?" he questioned. I sighed, taking a swig of my drink. "Er, you're Asian, right?"

"My father's strong genes," I spoke. "Half-white."

"Huh, well, you're very pretty. You don't seem to be around these parts."

"Well, waiting for my friend," I spoke.

"Why don't we get the hell outta here, and you tell your friend you're out havin' a little fun?" The man's hand slid up my thigh, and I elbowed him right in the nose. He flew out of his chair, clutching his nose as he scrambled up angrily.

"Out!" Janet ordered angrily, staring him down until he walked out. Once he started to head towards the door, my eyes followed him to make sure he left, and saw Trevor standing near it. It looked like he had seen what had just happened.

"Damn," Trevor whistled. "Don't fuck with this girl, am I right?" he smirked as Janet put a beer in front of him.

"Damn straight," I winked, finishing off my drink. Janet gave me another.

"What the fuck is that?" he questioned, pointing at it. "Don't get all fruity on me now."

I grinned. "Next drink will be a beer, then. How 'bout it?"

"Yeah, or we're no longer friends." He took a big gulp of his beer. "You look great, by the way." His eyes were eyeing me up and down, the compliment making me feel accomplished.

I stopped mid-sip when it hit me.

I liked Trevor.

I started to choke on my drink.

"Hey, hey, hoh, you alright there?" he questioned, patting my back roughly. I cleared my throat and gave him a thumbs up as I winced.

"Yeah, uh, yup. Wrong tube," I lied. Oh, Jesus I hadn't liked anyone in twelve years, and had a relationship in five, and had sex in four!

I used to give nice men chances, but felt nothing for them and had to end it. It happened to me all the time, and the last man I actually liked was one of my old high school classmates I ran into a decade after high school, who ended up leaving me two years later for a Veterinarian named Judy. He was too goody two-shoes anyways and didn't know about my line of business, so it was never meant to be.

I dated two men after him before I gave up on dating, and had one one-night stand four years ago until I realized how much I hated that, too, and how it wasn't for me.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Trevor questioned, breaking me out of my thought process. I cleared my throat.

"Realized I forgot to get the mail from my LS house." I spoke.

"Huh. . .Okay?" he shrugged, finishing off his beer and starting in on the new one Janet had placed in front of him.

"So," I spoke, turning to look at him, but when I turned he got a sneak peek at my chest, which popped out a bit out of the v-neck.

"So," he spoke, his eyes still on my breasts until his eyes looked up to catch mine. "You've got a nice set of jugs."

God, he was so blunt, so honest, so. . .Dirty, wrong, he felt no guilt and no remorse.

But I craved all those traits in a man, something I never allowed myself to indulge in, but this man was more than that. He wasn't a bum like every other man who fit that category, he wasn't a freeloading loser, he was a man of business and a man of power, a man who didn't need money to be happy.

I bit my lip and shifted in my seat, adverting my eyes to the drink before me. A Pisswasser. I felt a little woozy and hadn't even realized I had drunk both Daiquiris, and took the beer. I held the Pisswasser in my left hand, since I was left handed, and took a sip of it.

Trevor's eyes were glued to my lips now. He didn't say anything as he took another sip of his Pisswasser before his eyes shifted to mine, and he looked as if he knew a secret.

I think I knew which secret he knew. The fact I liked him. I had realized now how obvious it might have been, asking him to meet me at a bar, punching out a half-decent looking man, wearing this kind of outfit. I was practically beckoning to this man that I wanted him, but it wasn't until now that I realized I'd been subconsciously signaling to him all this time.

"So, that guy not your type?" He asked finally, pointing a thumb to the door. He was talking about the guy I had punched out.

"I don't like weak losers," I spoke, eyes locked on his. "He took initiative, but he was not the man I wanted to spend a night with," I spoke with a grin. "Not at all."

"What about him turned you off?" he asked, watching my mouth again.

I gave a curt laugh. "Everything."

"Wow, thank god you aren't being vague or anything," Trevor spoke, throwing a hand in the air.

I snickered at this. "Well, for one, I knocked him out with a tiny little punch. I need a man of power, a man who can handle his own. A man who no one wants to fuck with, and who doesn't have to beg for a lady. . . A man who can draw a lady to him by being himself." A drop of water landed on my lap, falling from the beer in my hand, but I didn't pay it no mind. Trevor and I were in an intense stare down.

"And it seems you've found someone who fits that description," Trevor spoke, taking a swig of his beer.

"I think I may have," I spoke, ripping my gaze from him to turn to look at my phone. I groaned, seeing how many of my warehouse men were texting me about some type of emergency. Apparently, they had to move the shipment somewhere else because a cop got a tip about my operation. "Shit, I have to go. Emergency."

Trevor didn't say anything, he just kept his eyes on me as I left, I could feel those eyes of his stare right through me as I nervously walked to my car, getting in it and calling the manager of that specific warehouse, Roberto. I told him to move the North warehouse's supplies to the South warehouse's supply, so he did. All of my warehouses were still in LV, but when those shipments had left the warehouse I was going to have my labs send the products to closer warehouses around Sandy Shores and Los Santos so it would be easier to keep an eye on them.

I started to drive to LS to the warehouse that had started to gain some product in order to try to track the shipments with the manager of this specific warehouse, George, and spent the whole night organizing the shipments from the lab. I had to advert all the shipments from being sent to the North warehouse.

\--

Trevor and I had been so busy that we hadn't talked for three days. It was now four days after the heist, and we were supposed to be laying low and not talking and all, but Trevor and I were still fixing up the house. He brought me to find the tiles I wanted, and the paint color I wanted.

I wore my hair in a high ponytail, but even in a ponytail it dropped down to my lower back and tickled it, as I was wearing a tank top that was cut off two inches above the bellybutton. I also wore a pair of black and white shorts, and a pair of worn out, black shoes.

Trevor was wearing a T.P.I tank top and his blood-stained sweats. I discreetly admired the view of his strong arms.

I was going to paint my living room the color of Coffee Ice Cream. The tiles were going to be a light brown. We had to floor first, so we were ripping out the living room floor, and I had put all my furniture on the street for people to snatch up. I didn't want the furniture of whoever lived here before, they seemed like slobs with the rats in the couch and the greasy stains all over it as well. No thank you.

I started to get tired so I sat down on the armchair that came with the place, my ass sunk almost all the way through but the thin fabric above the broken frame held me up. I watched as Trevor ripped off the floor with his shirt off. I smiled, then got up to get some lemonade for him.

I was in the middle of pouring a glass when Trevor's phone went off. He groaned. "Fuck, who is texting me," he grumbled before fishing the phone out of his pocket and checking it. "I'm supposed to go to Madrazo's house, apparently."

I frowned. They were friends with him? "Uhm, okay, well," I spoke, walking up to him, holding up the glass of Lemonade. "Here." I smiled. "And thank you. . ." I spoke, looking up at him, into his eyes.

He was looking down at me, too, now. He slowly took the glass from me, then set it down on the coffee table, taking my face in his hands and shoving his mouth upon mine. He kissed me fiercely, his hands gripping into my hair, gripping it, moaning into my mouth as I grabbed a handful of his shirt. I pulled him closer to me, moaning as he grabbed onto my ass, lifting me up as he pushed me onto the barstool I had near the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, and spread my legs open, hands sliding inside of them. I started to moan as his hands started to rub their way closer to the center of my legs, but then I panicked and gripped onto his hands. He stopped abruptly.

I hesitated. "I-. . .I-. . .Uh-. . . You have to go to Madrazo's," I spoke quickly. Trevor tried to read my flushed face, I gently patted my hair down as my heartbeat pounded out of my chest.

"Okay?" he questioned, put off. He grabbed his shirt, and walked out of the door.

What the hell did I just do?

I rushed out, but I was too late, Trevor was already gunning it down the street. I groaned, shoving my hands in my face. I had gotten all defensive for the wrong person.

In my line of work, or by just being a female, I've had men try to force themselves on me until I stopped them by shoving them away or kicking their ass, it was just a force of habit now, but I shoved away the person I wanted to get intimate with.

I gasped and put my hand over my mouth, walking back into my house to sit down on the shitty armchair. I had fucked up.

\--

I went to Trevor's trailer and walked in, seeing as it was left slightly ajar to find Ron and a white man with dreadlocks and a black and red Fatal Incursion jersey on a white t-shirt. He also wore blue baggy pants.

They both jumped a foot in the air when I walked in, and I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Where's Trevor?"

"Trevor hasn't been home all day," Ron spoke.

"Who is she?" The man with dreadlocks asked in an almost childish tone.

"Lucy," I spoke. "I'm Lucy. Who are you?"

"Wade! My name's Wade. I work for Trevor."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Okay, well, the talk with Madrazo shouldn't have taken that long. He should be home by now. . . " I sighed. "Fuck . . . Fuck!" I growled, going to my house and examining the room, the incomplete room.

I ran my hands through my hair and sat down onthe shitty armchair. Fuck my life.


	9. Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature Scene Ahead!

I parked my Rusty Rebel outside of Trevor's house, hopping out of the driver's seat to walk over to the door, knocking nervously, seeing Trevor's truck after hours of peeping out of my window to check. He was home, finally, after the Madrazo visit.

I took a deep breath, then swung the front door open. I found Michael on Trevor's couch, on the phone. I heard him say something about us laying low, I don't know, I wasn't entirely paying attention. I was mostly paying attention to Patricia in the kitchen area.

"Patricia?" I questioned, finding her mouth was duct taped shut. "What the—. . . " I sighed. "Fuckin' Trevor probably realized how cheap your husband pays, didn't he." I sighed. Patricia started to nod. I ran my hand through my hair. Michael was stuck here too because of this situation. Of course.

I poked my head into the bedroom to find Trevor knocked out on the bed, and sighed, removing myself from the room and going next to Michael, sitting next to him with my head in my hands.

"You okay?" he asked, clicking a button on the phone after finishing his conversation. When I lifted my head, I saw he was placing the device in his pocket.

"I—yeah. How late has Trevor been asleep for?"

"Since we got back from kidnapping Madrazo's wife. . ." His expression changed, turning thoughtful, and slightly suspicious. "Why are you here?"

"I bought a house two minutes away when I got wasted out here, and decided to keep it and remodel it. I prefer it over the Los Santos house."

"Why?" Michael questioned. I shrugged.

"Less people out here. And I don't need a big house. All the cars I have I got when I first started making money but I don't entirely need them. I only ever need three, the Banshee and Reaper are in the garage and the Rusty Rebel is in front of the house. . . Rebel gets used most often though. So really I just need one rusty truck and one livable house and I'm good. The other place is just storage.  
Michael frowned. "Huh. Okay, guess we differ there. . . Remodeling with the money from the last heist?"

I chuckled. "No, I had Lester divide my cut into three, and distribute the money to you guys. I didn't do it for the money."

Michael looked baffled now at this point, and I could tell he was the most materialistic person in our group. I could tell he loved Los Santos more than I ever could, and he didn't understand my craving to throw out the money hungry attitude Los Santos' residents embraced.

He looked from me, to Trevor's room, back to me. I knew what he was thinking. "You're kind of like Trevor. . . Except you're not completely insane. And you're probably much cleaner, and you actually care to remodel your house instead of let it rust and rot." His words were bitter. He looked around Trevor's dirty home and scrunched up his nose.

I let out a very long sigh, then walked over to Trevor's sleeping form. I sat on the bed, and poked him in the chest.

He flew up into a sitting position, screaming out, "What the who the what!?" Once his eyes rested on me and he saw who I was, he relaxed and sighed. "Oh, hi." He grumbled.

"Can we talk?" I questioned. "I'm going to go to the store to buy more paint, you can come with me."

"Fine, fine!" he shouted, sitting up and standing up, storming past me. "Mikey, I have to go get some fuckin' supplies with Lucy."

I waved goodbye to Michael before I walked out of the home and into the hot weather, feeling my skin start to tingle as I let out a breath. I got into the driver's seat and waited for Trevor to get into the passenger seat, then drove down the street to a small, empty clearing. I parked right in the middle and turned to look at him.

"Where the FUCK. . Are we?" Trevor questioned as he suddenly realized we were stopped.

"We're not too far from the homes. How do you not know?"

He sniffed. "Man, that gasoline is strong."

I sighed. "Look, I pushed you off because I haven't had sex in four years. It's weird to just hop into the game. Haven't felt love for someone in five years, not even for Carlos, my right hand man of several, several years. Feelings don't come easy to me. I don't feel remorse too easy." I sighed. "But I. . .Want to get to know you better." I spoke.

Trevor stared me in the eye and blinked. "You're fucking with me. You. . . Like me. YOU. . . Like ME. You. . . The sexy business woman likes the dirty business man."

I reached over and grabbed him by the face, planting a kiss on his mouth. "I fucking want you." I spoke.

Trevor started to growl. "Drive to your house. Now."

He spoke, and without hesitation, I did what I was told.

[MATURE SCENE AHEAD]   
Once my foot stepped through the door, he grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the wall, his mouth latching onto mine, his hands hungrily sliding up into my dress to touch my legs and hold my ass. I let out a moan, my eyes fluttering open for just a moment.

He yanked me into the bedroom and threw me upon the bed. I squeaked as his motion made the pile of clothes at the end of the bed bounce off and land on the floor, he crawled on top of me and lifted my dress up to look at my lace panties, his mouth latching onto my sex through the thin fabric, his tongue licking the fabric, causing me to let out a moan. He brought his hand up and slapped my ass hard, leaving a stinging sensation and, most likely, a huge red mark. I let out a whimper as he then tore off my panties, ripping them in half as he started to go to town on me, his tongue licking every crevice of my nether regions, causing me to shiver and squeal occasionally. My feet kept twitching from the pleasure he gave me, and I moaned his name loudly once I felt his tongue rub my clit, making circular motions as he slipped two fingers into me, fingering me hard and skillfully.

"Oh, fuck!" I whimpered, arching my back and letting out a loud moan as I felt an orgasm start to build. "Fuck, fuck fuck!" I squeaked, and I could tell he knew I was getting close. No one had ever brought me to an orgasm so quickly, but in a matter of minutes, he had me arching my back, legs shaking and mouth agape as a loud, loud moan escaped my lips. I was gasping for breath, and starting to get sweaty at that ground-breaking orgasm. I could feel my sex spasm at the force of the orgasm, but before I could recover Trevor lifted his head up and slammed his mouth against mine, his hands roughly groping my breasts as he started to rip my dress off. I quickly sat up and undid the zipper as to make sure he didn't break my favorite dress, and allowed him to slip it off of me. He started to work at my bra, unclasping it easily before throwing it behind him, his mouth latching onto my left nipple as he started groping my other breast, his teeth lightly biting the sensitive areas around my nipple. I started to tear his shirt off, causing him to pause for just a brief second as he ripped it off of himself, and continued to work his magic on me.

"Let me suck you off," I purred, causing him to stop and sit up on his knees, then scramble to remove his pants, his hard member already protruding from his pants. He looked almost painfully hard, so I released him from his underwear, his member hard and ready for release. I pushed him gently onto the bed so he would land on his back with his head on the pillows and he did, I crawled down to his member and latched my mouth on the head, my tongue licking a bit of precum off as my hand started to pump, my mouth lowering onto his cock so I could start efficiently sucking him off. I created a suction with my mouth and pushed him as deep as I could inside of my mouth, deep throating him, causing a low moan to escape his body. I cupped his balls and started to massage them as I kept working my magic on him, my mouth going up and down, my tongue licking every inch of him.

"I love you I love you I love you, oh god I love you," he moaned, and I could tell it was one of his habits to say that during sex, it seemed natural for him to say it as such. I stopped my motion, feeling him get harder and harder, signaling release. He grabbed me and flipped me so I was now laying on the bed, his mouth latching onto my neck, teeth sinking in as he drew blood. I let out a scream as he marked me.

"Fuck, you're so submissive. I love it." he growled as he then put the head of his member at my entrance, and without asking, slammed himself into me all the way. I let out a moan, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as he started to slam relentlessly into me, causing me to lift my legs up and wrap them around his waist, giving him better access. He grabbed my ass and lifted it up to get better leverage, slamming in and out of me as we both let out loud moans, he knew just how to get me writhing in pleasure. He changed angles and started to slam into a sensitive spot, causing me to arch my back and let out a scream.

"Oh, god! Oh, god Trevor!" I moaned.

"You like it when Uncle T fucks you like that, huh?"

"Oh, god yes, oh Uncle T!" calling him uncle T started to bring him close to orgasm, I could sense it, so I kept calling him that repeatedly when I felt my own orgasm start to come. He became more erratic, and I gripped onto the sheets as we both screamed, cumming at the same time.

[END MATURE SCENE]   
He collapsed on top of me, our sticky, sweaty bodies not seeming to be uncomfortable for each other as we stayed where we were, too tired to move, and fell asleep.


	10. Type

"Charlie?" I gasped as I walked into the bedroom I shared with my fiancée, to find him under the sheets, and from what I could tell from where I stood, he was naked.

I frowned in confusion, until another wriggling figure under the sheets made their existence obvious.

"L-Lucy! Hey, baby! You're home!" he laughed nervously. "W-was just, uh. . ."

I pointed to the spot next to him. "Who is that?" I asked calmly.

Charlie opened his mouth, hesitated, then turned to the bump in the sheets who was now poking their head out of the covers.

"Fuck. . ." Charlie breathed as a small, sheepish blonde lady peered over the sheet, just revealing her eyes just enough for us to both see each other.

"I-I'm sorry, I-" she started, but I held my hand out and laughed.

"Babe," I seethed. "Where the fuck do you think I am when I say I'm working?"

Charlie frowned, confused. ". . .Working?"

"Yes, but where do you think I work?"

Charlie straightened up in the bed. I was going to have to burn these sheets. Hopefully I could do that with them inside of them still. "Err. . . Don't you work at the FIB building as an assistant?"

I laughed. "No. So I guess we both had secrets, you're just so disrespectful with yours that you had to bring your mistress to our home and inside of our bed and fuck her right here. I feel as if you knew you'd get caught and wouldn't have cared anyways. Because fuck my feelings, right?"

Charlie started to rub his face. The woman next to him scrambled out of the bed, and started to pull clothes on herself. Her face was beet red, and she was obviously embarrassed. Charlie held out a hand to stop her. "Judy, no! Please."

Judy turned to look at him. "Don't drag me into this drama, Charlie."

I held the door open for her. "Leave before I change my fuckin' mind and run you over with my car."

She looked at me, horrified, her brown eyes large and shocked as she scurried out of the room. I started to laugh, I folded my arms and looked at Charlie. He was helplessly sitting in the white sheets, completely nude and caught red handed.

"This is what happens, when I get with a pathetic CFO. A plain as vanilla, corporate, rich scumbag. But thank you for letting me know this way, this is great!" I laughed. "Now, I can think of ways to get back at you." I spoke.

Charlie started laughing now, shaking his head. "You couldn't hurt me, baby."

I snickered, taking a fireplace stick and poking it in the fire, heating it up. "Oh, oh, I can, 'baby,' I can." I yanked out the hot piece of iron and strode to his place in the bed, forcefully flipped him over with one arm, and pressed the searing iron on his ass, branding him.

He screamed, trying to scramble away but I kept the brand on him as he moved, making sure it was even more painful for him as he attempted to escape.

I laughed, and put the prodder back with the fireplace. "Get the fuck out of my house. And watch your back. Call the cops, and I'll have you barbequed in this here fireplace. Got it?" I growled. "Get the fuck out!"

He scrambled to find clothes as tears ran down his face, he was shaking in fear. Pathetic. How a man like that ever impressed me was beyond me.

He put on his boxers and hissed at the contact to his skin, then grabbed his suit off the floor. He started to make towards the closet to get a suitcase, but I walked in front of it and stopped him. "No, I'll get your clothes to you later, scumbag. Just get out. Now."

"Y-You're insane," he whimpered as he started to run out of the house now. I snickered.

"Oh, 'baby,' you don't know the half of it."

\--

I woke up, curled against a figure who was holding me by my waist. I tried to wriggle free, but he had a very tight grip on me.

I dreamt of my ex fiancée. Something that never usually happened, but that bitch had cheated on me with another woman, and left me for her.

I mean, I did brand his ass, but I knew he was going to leave me for her before he could even let me know he was.

We had to cancel all the wedding plans, and he had to explain to his family what happened, but I took the liberty of telling them.

I turned to see Trevor's sleeping face. He looked innocent in this moment of slumber, causing my heart to skip a beat.

This here was my type of man.

I smiled and slunk back into him, enjoying the feel of his bare chest against my back, until his phone started to go off. I scrambled when I realized Michael was calling.

Trevor woke up by my jittery movements, sitting up and groaning. "Who the fuck is calling?"

"Michael!" I spoke. "Look, don't tell him about us just yet, okay? Just . . . Answer the phone, say that the line at the store is huge and, er. . . . They have to order a bunch of shit." I threw the phone at him, and he caught it.

He answered the phone now, groaning into it. "Mikey, what? . . . No, we haven't been gone too long, we're at the store. . . Yeah, we fucking are, Mikey don't you tell me that isn't true! You're not here right now, you don't know how long it takes to build things yourself Mr. I-Have-Money-And-A-Mansion! . . . Okay, fine! . . . " he hung up. I let out a long breath of air and lay back down next to him. "So why can't he know?"

I ran my fingers along his cheek. "I don't want to make him or Franklin uncomfortable with this, we have to keep strictly business around them or it'll be harder to work together, at least for now. I don't want to deal with judgmental Michael just yet."

He sighed. "Fine, your wish is my command." He lay back down on the bed, groaning. "You're not ashamed of me, are you?"

I giggled, pushing him onto his back and crawling onto his stomach. I propped myself up with my elbows and looked down at him. "That's a silly question. No."

He was watching me with a curious expression now as I kissed his chin, and snuggled closer to him.

"You should get back, I'll stay here with all the shit we supposedly got, or ordered, or whatever we said." I waved my hand in the air dismissively. He sat up and peeled me off of his chest, but flipped me onto my back so he could place a kiss on my lips before he stood up from the bed.

"Sure you don't wanna come, princess?"

I smiled, eyes on him. "I'm still exhausted. I don't want to move."

He started to clothe himself now, examining my body from where he stood. He let out a low growl. "I may just come back when Michael's asleep."

I grinned, my hand sliding up the side of the bed he was just laying on. "I'll save your spot."

He grinned before he turned and left my bedroom. I heard the front door open, and close, clutching the sheets closer to me as I fell into a deep sleep.


	11. Trevor the Hipster

The Liquor Store.

The place where Chef cooked all the methamphetamine for Trevor Philips Industries. I had never had any desire to produce meth, my game was Cocaine, and I was damn good at it. Trevor was an entrepreneur, though, selling all the drugs under the sky along with firearms. Smart move, of course, because that would provide more income. He produced small batches of each of those things, providing a large profit. I produced only one thing, in huge batches, making large profit.

Two different techniques, both equally as good, but I was sure my business was older, as it dated back to the mid-fifties.

Taking a look at this place, I knew he had at least been producing and selling for a decade, at least.

I walked up the stained, dirty stairs, wrinkling my nose as I finally got to the door of the upper floor, swinging it open to find Michael and Trevor already in a heated argument.

Oh, boy.

"I was relaxing at home before you showed up by my swimming pool, making me feel bad for mistakes I made a decade ago! Forgive me, you ignorant fuck, but sarcasm is all I fucking got! Sarcasm, and a room full of you cunts!"

Trevor applauded Michael, a moment I had ripped my attention from when I realized something.

I had barely realized two people of the FIB were there—including one of them who was staring straight at my ass. I turned to them. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" the younger one questioned suspiciously.

"Their fourth person." I spoke. "Lucy Reaper.

"I'm Dave Norton, this is Steve Haines. You missed the briefing, so one of these guys can explain all that to you." the older gentlemen spoke, turning to the younger guy, Steve.

"And remember, we're. . .Not involved in this." He spoke before turning away. I scoffed.

"Surprise there." I muttered under my breath.

"I'll give Lester a call," Michael said as he went into the other room to have the conversation with him. I made my way towards Trevor once Michael was out of sight, and Trevor brought my chin up to his, I stood up on my tippy toes as he roughly kissed me, hand squeezing my ass. We pulled away, and Michael walked back in, eyes still on phone before he placed it in his pocket. "We're meeting Lester. He's takin' a bus out here."

"Which car are we taking?" I questioned. "Could we take mine?" I had driven another car of mine that was brought down from Las Venturas. My chrome Exemplar.

"Sure," Michael spoke. We started to head downstairs towards my car. "Jesus, your cars are great for a person who doesn't care for money."

"I love cars, sue me." I put the key in the ignition and started the car, I watched as Michael and Trevor both went for the front seat.

"Get in the back, should be enough room for your fat ass."

"Fuck you, Trevor," Michael started to walk to the backseat as Trevor sat next to me, our eyes locking before he clicked his seatbelt on and closed the door. Michael closed his door and started to put his seatbelt on, so I drove onto the road and started to head to Paleto Bay.

I began driving down the street, passing my house and then Trevor's, making a right past his house to start heading to the freeway.

"So we're going to meet Lester. . . " I sighed. "Alrighty."

"Don't start," I heard Michael say to Trevor who had slightly turned to look in the backseat.

"I won't. No way. Good call. If you're taking down a bank for a few million, first thing you do is call the hospital. Tell 'em to get you a guy in a wheelchair."

"Oh! This hayseed bank, it going to be carrying that kind of change?" Michael questioned.

"Local law enforcement extort money from all the weed farms, whore houses, meth kitchens in the area. They keep their cash in safe deposit boxes. Then there's all the normal small town payroll stuff!" Trevor spoke. "We should do well!" Trevor said sarcastically in a lighter tone. I held back my smirk as I gunned it past a car that was going the speed limit.

"You know, I've been thinking about you, Trevor. Your lifestyle."

"Oh have you? Really?" Trevor spoke, faking interest.

"Yes, I have. People always try to label you. You know, maniac, psycho. . ."

"Friend, industry leader. . . " Trevor continued.

"In some ways you defy categorization, but then. . ."

"What?" Trevor questioned in slight distaste.

Michael went on. "Think about it, where you live."

"Sandy Shores, you precious ass. I'm sorry there ain't a place nearby for you to get you colonics." Trevor sneered. I giggled as I weaved through traffic while listening intently to their conversation.

"Right, but why are you out here?" Michael questioned.

"It's off the grid. We're away from it all. It's somewhere real and authentic. This is Americaaa! And real people ain't been priced out yet."

"Yeah, well what if it gets gentrified?" Michael questioned.

"Then I'll fucking move," Trevor retorted.

I sucked my lips into my mouth, realizing where Michael was going. He was going to call Trevor a hipster, I just knew it. If Trevor so much as caught me smirking, I'd be in trouble, so I let out a long breath, pushing my lips back out to normal biting the right corner before focusing back on the road and also trying not to seem like I was laughing at Trevor.

"Okay, what about the way you dress?" Michael questioned next.

Trevor spoke quickly. "What about it? I don't give a shit what I wear," he emphasized the word 'shit,' as he started to get more aggravated.

"No, no no, if you don't give a shit, you wear clean clothes that fit. See yours are all a little out there. A little whacky."

"Whatever's in the shop, is what I get. Jesus. what is this?"

"It's not an absence of taste, T. It's the opposite of taste."

"You . . . Should be a stylist." Trevor responded.

"And then there's the tattoos, the hair, the weird music, the funny toys, the niche drugs, the . . . everything."

My eyes widened in shock. Holy shit, Michael was kind of right.

I forced my facial features to go back to normal as not to attract suspicion from Trevor.

"What. . . The fuck are we talking about?" Trevor spoke angrily.

"You. . . Are a hipster!" Michael finally spoke. I bit down the corners of my mouth to prevent myself from grinning.

"What?" Trevor spoke, dumbstruck.

Michael was smug with his deduction. "You're a hipster."

"I hate hipsters. . ." Trevor spoke with a low, frustrated tone.

"Classic hipster denial."  
"I. . . Abhor. . .Hipsters! I eat them for fun."

"Hipsters love saying they hate hipsters."

"Well I really fucking do!"

"Self hatred! Common hipster affliction."

"Well only because I'm living here away from the Bean Machines, and the bankers?"

"You're gentrifying. Soon, the skinny jeans will show up. Then the skinny lattes, and then the bankers. And you'll be somewhere else starting the cycle all over again. Maybe you're not the classic garden variety hipster, but you're what the hipsters aspire to be. You, Trevor, are the proto-hipster! Haha."

I started to slow down as we were nearing our location, making sure this conversation ended by the time we got there. I was doing my best not to snort in laughter.

"I. . .Don't know what you're talking about. I don't agree with what you're saying. You're talking bullshit. And you're trying to wind me up. But I'm very, VERY, angry and I want this conversation to stop right away."

"Hipster."

"Fuck you! Fuck you, Michael. Say it again!"

"I've made my point. I'm not a sadist."

"Alright boys, that's enough," I lightly spoke. Michael opened the car door and walked out, and I used the fact that my windows were tinted 100% to my advantage, tugging on the front of Trevor's shirt to pull him into me into a fierce kiss before calmly pulling away, and stepping out of the car. I waltzed over to Michael, who didn't see a thing, and leaned against the wall by the bus stop. Trevor followed after a moment or two, his eyes eyeing me as if I was a naughty girl. Michael sat at the bus stop, his back towards us, and Trevor leaned next to me. I took his hand in mine, and prepared to wait for Lester's arrival.

\--

Trevor got so bored he started to throw rocks at Michael.

"Stop," Michael spoke, turning around to glare at an innocent-faced Trevor.

"What?" he questioned. Michael turned back away, Trevor then took this moment to fling another rock at him, causing Michael to spin back around and point at him.

"I'll break your fucking fingers," Michael threatened.

"Do it, it'll alleviate the boredom!" Trevor spoke.

I let out a loud groan. "Fuck, I could have picked him up and it woulda been faster!"

"Calm down, sugar tits, the bus is right there," Trevor spoke, pointing to it. Lester got off of the bus, and started to walk to us with difficulty.

"Drive us to the bank," he commanded as he got into the backseat, I took my seat as driver as Trevor took the seat next to me, and Michael claimed the last remaining seat, the seat behind Trevor.

I started to drive down the street to the bank, and Lester started to direct us now. "Go to the front of the bank, security should be a relic. Nothing special."

I drove to the front of the building, a small tan square of a building with cactuses on both the left and the right of the entrance symmetrically, giving the bank a slightly less boring look. It said "BLAINE COUNTY" on a big sign in front with a big red O shape to the left, "SAVINGS BANK" posted in smaller letters under the county name, separated by a thick red line.

It really did look like nothing special, but I took Trevor's word that it was worth millions.

"It's remote. . .Right amount of foot traffic. Let's go in the back lot to see the security."

I drove around the block and into an empty plot, close enough to where Lester could see the small, circular alarm on the back of the building.

"Not ideal to break the system, it'll cost more. Let's trigger the alarm to see the response. . ." Lester spoke. I got out of the car to aim my Special Carbine at the alarm, shooting it and triggering the alarm. I got back into the car and drove us back around the front, and slightly passed it to a gas pump as if we were stopping to get gas instead of watching the bank. Lester checked his police radio. Fifty seconds to respond, dispatch sent four cars which arrived in sixy seconds.

"The backup was way too quick, and out of proportion, Trevor was right about the dirty cops. They're rushing to save their money." We kept listening in and heard the cops call it a Code 12, false alarm triggered intentionally. They also called for checkpoints and record checks.

Trevor basically said "Screw this," getting out of the car and onto a motorcycle not two feet away from my car.

"Get in the damn car!" I spoke out of the window, frustrated.

"Forget that, I'll make it there before you guys do!" He spoke, zipping off. I groaned and decided to race his ass there, zipping down the road and passing his bike, rolling down the window to flip him off as the turbo kicked in, I slowed down a few miles up to make a sharp left turn onto a dirt path, everyone in the car screaming at me to slow down as I cut corners and made it to the bridge. They gripped onto their doors as I flew through it, and in a blink of an eye, I was there at Trevor's lab. I drifted into a parking position and got out of the car, slamming the door shut as Michael and Lester practically fell out of their seats and onto the floor.

I leaned on the back of the car as Trevor showed up in his bike.

"Took you long enough," I shook my head.

"Fuck you," Trevor muttered as he walked past me and into the liquor store, a grin spreading across my smug face as I followed behind him, practically skipping up the stairs.

Trevor opened the fridge and started to gag and cough, I quickly covered my nose once I smelled the unholy odor and tried my best not to throw up. I could already feel my insides churn.

"Hey, Michael, your blood sugars are low, I'm the host let me make you some grub," Trevor spoke, popping a bowl of unknown meat into the microwave.

"That's fine, Trevor, I'm okay," Michael started to speak, Trevor placed the heated bowl of crap in front of him as Michael nearly jumped away from it in disgust.

"What the hell is wrong with you? That's an eyelid!" he shouted.

"Oh calm down, it's probably not even human. Oh well, more for me." Trevor spoke nonchalantly as he was about to start chowing down on it before I quickly slapped the fork out of his hand. He turned to look at me in irritation.

"No!" I spoke. "That's gonna make you throw up!" I sounded so much like a mom, and expected Trevor to rebel against me but it seemed like the mom voice worked to my advantage. He listened to me, and stopped trying to eat the bowl of mystery meat.

Trevor let out a long groan before leaning back into his chair. I took the bowl, the smell causing me hold my breath in digust. One more sniff and I would have started puking. I tried to search for a trashcan, but found none, so I quickly chucked the bowl out of the window and then finally took a gasp of air, choking. "Fuck, that was potent. I'll make you guys some food later so you don't fucking poison yourself, fucking Christ," I plopped myself onto a chair and ran my fingers through my hair.

"Alright, come here," Lester spoke, motioning for Michael to head over to the planning board. I followed as well.

Since the response times were too quick for us to escape, we'd need to take on the cops. Military shipments with the necessary equipment pass near Trevor's lab regularly anyways, something Lester would fill us in on later. The upside to this location was that the bank was near water, and Franklin could wait with a boat for our escape. The choices for gunmen were Gustavo Mota, Norm Richards, Daryl Johns, Chef, and Packie McReary.

"McReary?! From Liberty City? Sign that guy up, did a job with him once. I owe him for saving my life. I trust him to help us out on this one."

"Alright," Lester spoke. "I'll take your word for it. I'll get the equipment together."

"I'll call Franklin," Michael spoke as he took out his phone. He left the room.

"Hey, Lester, wanna crash at my place?" Trevor asked. "Mi casa es su casa."

"I'll find a motel instead," Lester muttered, leaving the room as well, leaving Trevor and I alone. I walked up behind him and placed my hands on his shoulders, leaning down to kiss his right ear.

"Let's go to my place and have some fun," I purred into his ear.

"You read my mind, baby," Trevor spoke, standing up to follow me as I rushed down to my car, thankful to find Michael and Lester already left. Trevor got into my car and I gassed it to my house, ready to have some alone time with my man.


	12. The Paleto Score

"Hey Jimmy, it's your father. Call me back." Michael ended the call and let out a sigh as Trevor poured a glass of gasoline, shaking the glass.

"Daddy's been a bad boy, please son uughh," Trevor mocked. "Wanna sniff?" he offered Michael, holding the glass out.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Michael asked for what seemed like the tenth time this day. I was sitting on the far left end of the couch, keeping quiet as I watched their interaction. I was always a little uneasy about getting in between their arguing, since they always succeeded to egg each other on to their limits.

Trevor laughed at Michael's words. "No, you see, the way I see it is this country was built by and for gasoline, so I'm just trying to prove my patriotic duty by doing the stuff," he spoke, taking a sniff. "Oh man, it's cheap but it's good."

Patricia started to make her way over to him, she slapped Trevor across the face and took the gasoline from him. "Gasolina? No," she spoke, pouring it out in the sink as Michael started to laugh harder than I've seen him laugh before. Probably the first genuine laugh I've heard from Michael.

"Sorry, Mrs. M, Jesus. . . " Trevor spoke. "Mikey, wanna beer? Oh shit, sorry, I don't have any low carb," Trevor spoke, heading to the fridge. He opened it and searched around.

"Oh, fuck you," Michael spoke as Trevor threw him a beer, throwing one to me as well. I opened it, taking a long gulp before placing it on the counter next to me.

"So where did you two go when you went out, your boyfriend," Michael asked. He was referring to Ron.

"Why do you care?" Trevor questioned.

"I don't care. Just trying to conversate."

"Well, I was out trying to put people in their place," Trevor spoke, his lips touching the spout of the beer, tilting it back to get a swig. I bit my lip, feeling unbelievably hot for him just by watching him take a sip of his drink, and turned my head to hide my obvious blush with my long hair. I kept myself behind my natural curtain, and shivered in delight. What was wrong with me?

"Ah, you know there's more to this gig than just going crazy all the time, killing everyone in sight," Michael spoke.

"Just because I like the life and you feel guilty about it, doesn't make you more of a man than me. and I know deep down, you know you don't like the bullshit, picket fences, happy endings. . ."

"And your street philosopher bullshit, that's got you real far. You've achieved perfect balance!" Michael threw back at him.

Things started to get heated now. "Balance? You're gone. Man, ten years in the sun. . . The rain has melted, you say words that have no meaning. What is balance, huh? Huh? I only kill the weekends so Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays, I'm doing meditation. Tuesdays and Thursdays, hookers and sticking up joints. You calling me mad? Fuck, compared to you I'm the sanest motherfucker I know."

"Ooohohohoho," Michael started to laugh, shaking his head.

"Yeah, sane sane sane sane sane! I'm so fucking sane, I should be opening up a mental health clinic." Trevor spoke after throwing his hands around, leaning against the sink again.

"Hah, okay," Michael spoke.

"Yeah. So you're going to stop being an asshole?" Trevor questioned.

"I don't know, but I'll try," responded Michael, who I was surprised had calmed down by now.

"Well that. . . I like your honesty," Trevor responded as they clinked their bottles together, Trevor taking a sip of his drink again. "I uh. . .Spoke to Franklin."

"Why?" Michael questioned, irritation rising once more. Oh, fucking Christ these two.

"Unlike you, he hears that his homies are having trouble, right, and he has no problem coming to help."

Michael was now furious. "So you ensure that we lie low, out here by calling LS to invite a known accomplice of ours out here, what, for a little visit?" Michael almost screamed.

"That is so fucking typical of you, so fucking typical. You don't even ask about the trouble, you instantly think about yourself."

Michael's attitude changed as his eyes shifted. He looks at Trevor, who's still leaning on the counter, and they have a silent moment. I shifted awkwardly, feeling out of the loop all of a sudden.

"You're right. I did do that. I apologize." Michael admitted.

"It's not good enough. I'm leaving, huh? I might die. Hope your happy."

"Hey, I'm coming with ya." Michael started to follow Trevor out of the trailer, Trevor obviously aggravated by this.

"No."

"Yes, I am."

"No!"

"Anything to get out of this dump."

"You're not going!"

"I'm coming, too," I spoke. Trevor didn't respond, I could tell he didn't mind that I was coming, as I always followed him everywhere anyways. I walked down the steps and over to the dirt driveway where Trevor's truck was, backed in and ready to go. Michael took the backseat, probably to be polite, so I hopped into the passenger seat of the truck and watched Trevor get in as well.

"Have fun! Don't stay out too late!" Patricia spoke, waving goodbye from the front door. I waved at her and smiled before Michael spoke, causing me to focus my attention to what he was saying.

"What is Franklin doing for you, anyways?"

"He's tailing some guys, Mikey. Tailing." He started to drive, but his phone started to go off in his pocket. He pulled it out and held it to his ear as he answered it. He was silent for a moment, and I guessed he was listening to the person on the other line speak. ". . . Alright, alright. The O'neil brothers are coming to us. . . . If you're running through W.A., you'll be running through Raton Canyon, yeah? . . . Good, me, M.T. and L.R. are gonna take the company chopper and meet you there."

Michael let out a scoff from the backseat. "Company chopper. . . Yeah."

"Company chopper, yes, Michael there's a tax rightoff!" Trevor shouted to Michael in the backseat. "Frank you still there? We're taking the chopper and we'll head you off, make sure you follow the pricks and stay on the road . . . We're five minutes from the company chopper." Trevor hung up, and I focused my attention on the road now as we flew down it to get to the airfield.

"O'neil brothers?" I questioned. "The other meth company?"

"I'll explain later, alright?" Trevor spoke, I nodded and left it at that, looking out of the window and allowing myself to stop tensing up to relax on the seat. After a few minutes, Trevor's phone went off again, and he answered it once more. "They crashed? They dead? . . . Don't worry. Incoming!!" he hung up.

"Incoming? You're all business." Michael spoke, somewhat impressed.

"Well yeah, this is kind of important. These men don't lke me and they know we're back in the Sandy Shores, so. . . Here she is, the Bizelli. Remember, she ain't mine, she's the company's."

I got into the front of the chopper with Trevor as Michael hopped into the back, the helicopter taking flight as I felt my stomach drop and my hands start to sweat. The first time I'd ever been in a helicopter with Trevor as the pilot, and I wasn't sure how he'd do. I was a bit nervous, seeing how reckless he was with driving alone, but to my surprise, Trevor piloted with a very steady hand, and I had reason to believe he had been trained heavily before, and probably had a pilot's license.

"So why do these guys want you dead?" Michael questioned, breaking the silence.

"They screwed me out of a good contract." Trevor spoke, and I could already tell what had happened. They screwed him, he killed a bunch of them, and now they're taking revenge. I'd seen this kind of scenario before, it wasn't too farfetched.

"Wait, why would they want you dead if they screwed you?" Michael questioned, and I realized he probably wouldn't be able to understand, since he wasn't CEO of a large, drug business.

"Damn Michael can't you just take my side for once?" Trevor groaned.

"Hey, I'm here now ain't I? And I'm lucky my heart ain't in a pie on your kitchen table."

"You're so cynical," Trevor responded.

"Oh, poor Trevor," Michael mocked.

"Hey! I'm a human being with thoughts and feelings and emotions."

"Hey wait. . . I remember this chopper. . . It's the FIB chopper we used to break into the IAA building. . . You stole it!" Michael spoke.

"Yeah, I took it in lieu of payment. If you could get your panties out of a twist about a stolen item and use the chopper o scan the forest for the O'neil brothers, that'd be great."

"I'm up front, I can do it," I spoke, using the program to find heated objects on the ground. I found a bunch of deer, and some people moving around. The O'neil's. I shot two to the left, then Trevor pointed out a man to the far right, so I shot him down too. Perfect headshots. I watched as their bodies faded from orange-yellow to a soft red, then a blue color to blend in with everything else around them as their bodies lost heat.

The sound of a rocket locking onto the plane caused me to turn to Trevor in shock, he dodged the rocket to my surprise, flinging the helicopter to the right so hard I felt my heart start to bang inside of my chest like a drum. I shakily started to look for the fourth man, but I couldn't find him.

One more rocket launched, Trevor dodged them. This happened two, three more times as Franklin took his dog into the forest to find the last one, and finally shot and killed him.

"Stay there, F, we'll pick you up with the chopper," Trevor spoke, easing down onto the ground near Franklin as Franklin and his dog hopped in the back with Michael.

"Is there anyone else trying to kill you?" Michael asked Trevor.

"Oh, plenty of people. Don't try to act like you're so popular."

We started to fly towards Trevor's airbase again. "I have a runway," Trevor spoke.

"Oh, sure, you have enough money for a runway but can't move out of that metal deathshack."

"How are you guys?" Franklin asked, stopping the argument.

"We're good," I sighed. "I think."

"Why did they want to kill you again?" Michael questioned. I started to rub my temples now.

"I didn't tell you? After the contract, I went to their farm and killed a lot of them and blew it up."

"A lot of them?"

"YES!" Trevor spoke, listing all of the names of the people he killed. "But don't forget I'm the wronged party!"

"Yeah, you're definitely the WRONG party alright," Michael muttered as Trevor landed in front of his airbase's hangar.

"Don't it feel good to help?" Trevor asked as we grouped up with each other next to the helicopter, I had my arms wrapped around myself as it was cold and I was just wearing a tank top. I shivered.

"Yeah, to kill them meth headed hillbillies," Michael said with a redneck accent.

"Can I take your car?" Franklin asked, looking at Trevor. He was talking about the car that Trevor probably stole and left on the airfield.

Trevor said yes to him, and Franklin said he'd drop off Michael on the way back.

I waved goodbye to Michael and Franklin and started to follow Trevor, getting into his truck and shivering until I felt something warm on me. I looked down to see he had placed a brown, coat with a fuzzy interior on my shoulders. The jacket he had just been wearing.

"Thank you," I spoke to him, smiling and waiting before Franklin and Michael drove away to kiss him.

He started up his engine, and we drove home together. He dropped me off at his place, then retired in his own home, leaving me to fall asleep in his coat at home, comforted by the scent of gasoline and musk.

\--

\--

I woke up wrapped in Trevor's jacket, smiling to myself as I placed it on the bed next to me. It was too hot to continue wearing it, which is why I had woken up. The heat was unbearable. I kicked off the blankets and groaned when I checked the clock. I could have slept for thirty more minutes, had I not been woken up by the heat.

I brushed the thought off, thanking the gods I was in Sandy Shores of all places and not crappy Los Santos as I went on my computer and ordered more shipments be sent out to that crap hole. I always made sure to check on my business and work for a bit in the mornings, and I now had a thirty-minute head start on the day. Not too bad.

I finished up on the computer after messaging a few Vagos to check and complete the shipments, sending out their payroll money, generous chunks of cash, and still had millions of dollars in profit. I made almost too much money. I never knew what to do with it.

I stretched my limbs out, turning on my coffee maker and headed to the bathroom while my coffee cooked. I started to do my makeup. Black cat eyes with a black, smoky eye look along with contoured cheekbones and a red, matte lip-stain on my mouth. I searched my closet and found a red v-neck and a pair of black, ripped leather pants. I put on my high-heeled boots and went back to the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee before heading to my garage and taking my Rusty Rebel out. I drove to Trevor's meth lab, and walked in during yet another argument. . . How unexpected.

Patty and Lester were also in the room at the table, sitting silently and Franklin was watching Trevor and Michael scream at each other in irritation.

"—A romance with a 60-year-old house wife!" Michael shouted.

"Augh! She's 57! She thinks that I'm mature." Trevor retorted.

"Yeah well let me tell you something! 30 years of marriage with the world's angriest mob boss would make anyone insane! You're not making my situation any easier!" Michael shouted back.

Wait, what? Romance with Patricia?

I squinted my eyes at Trevor, who didn't notice my newfound hostility as he continued to argue with Michael.

"Ohhh, there's a surprise! I knew it would become about you."

"I miss my family!"

"Oh you're full of shit. All you ever did was ignore them, and now that they're gone, you miss them! fucking incredible."

"I'll tell you what's incredible! Hey! Mother fucker!" Michael spoke, charging at Trevor who was charging at him as well, they were going to throw down until Franklin got in between them, he looked like he was so done with their arguing, and frankly, so was I.

"Hey! Enough! You brought me out here. You brought me into your crazy world of bullshit. If it was live, new age shit, and arguments about how good life used to be, I coulda stayed my ass in Los Santos!"

"Hello Franklin!" Lester said from his seat at his laptop.

"What's up." Franklin responded.

"Alright. . . Here's the shot. We're going to Paleto Bay, we're gonna do this thing. Any questions? Comments?" Michael questioned.

"I miss Brad. If that crazy motherfucker was with us now, he would've loved this. Instead he's gotta enjoy himself molesting white collar criminals in the federal penitentiary!"

"Thanks for sharing. Anybody else?"

"What about me?"

"You'll be waiting for them by the river. You'll be the getaway."

"A'aight. "

"These four go in. they get the take. They rendezvous with you, and get out of there. That uh, work for everyone? Great. Let's go."

We started to load up the van, but I stopped Trevor before he could get in, bringing us into a spot where no one could see us. I placed a kiss on his mouth. "Good luck," I whispered.

"Didn't that shit not work on that show you watch all the time? The one with the lady prisoners?"

I chuckled. "Just get your ass in the van."

He did as I said after smirking at me, and I took a seat next to McReary.

"Let's hit this shit." Michael spoke as he started driving.

"You ever hit a bank before Franklin?" Trevor questioned.

"Yeah I was the driver on the job my boy Lamar pulled, guess it's the same kinda shit we doin' now, right?"

"Nice, bro. What was the take?" Trevor questioned.

"Shit, I don't know man. I can't remember," Franklin so obviously lied.

"Come ooonn," Trevor spoke convincingly, trying to squeeze the answer out of him. "Everyone remembers their first score."

"Shit, not me!" Franklin spoke.

"Mikey, bro, what was your first bank score?" Trevor questioned.

"'88, outskirts of Carser City. Took a small franchise for ten G. Eh, things were easier back then."

"Eeeuggh, twenty-five years ago, JESUS! You! What was your first bank score?" Trevor asked McReary."

"You know, my first job ain't that interesting. I think I was spotting for my brother's scores in Junior High. What IS interesting, is my biggest job. Lucy knows this one. The bank of Liberty City."

"Oh, shit yeah. I heard you were part of the crew who took that down." Michael spoke, seeming wowed by this kid.

"I ran the crew! It was me, my brother Danny, God rest his soul, my pal Michael, God rest his soul, and another boy, Niko, whose probably dead, too."

"They're all dead. Must've been jinxed, huh?" Michael responded.

"All I know is I lived to tell the tale," Patty spoke. We went in, my pal Michael gets shot, I take down the hero who did it, and we blow the vault, take the money, and meet half the LCPD comin' out. The cops are outside, they're in the street, down the alley, they're in the subway. We keep moving, and shoot, moving, and shoot. Climbed out the subway, found a car, and we were away."

"Sounds like you were the right guy to bring along on this," Michael spoke, throwing me a thankful glance. I felt proud for picking this guy, I had also done a small job with him back before that specific heist, so I knew for sure he was a cool guy.

"Let's just hope we ain't jinxed as well. . ." Michael continued. "And you? Lucy?"

I laughed. "Well, my first bank heist was the Flecca bank. It was me, and Carlos, as I didn't trust having a random teammate for my first job. Lester had Carlos hack, and drill in the vault room to get the cash out, and I was the getaway driver. I kept that car I used to get away, The Kuruma. You've seen it for the Ballas Jewels heist we did."

"Yeah, that's right, Lester was telling me that," Michael spoke.

"Yeah, that bank and the Pacific Standard bank were the only two I've robbed, the Flecca job was a piece of cake, the Pacific Standard was a little hard on account of how many police had us surrounded, but me and three others were able to make off with the cash successfully. Feels like just yesterday that I did that one."

"And the lady continues to impress," Trevor spoke in a sultry tone, eyes on me before he continued on to jab at Franklin. I turned my head to hide my blush. "Heey, you turn to share, kid!" Trevor spoke to Franklin.

"I told you, I don't remember the details, man!" Franklin urged, clearly irritated now.

"Leave him alone, Trevor." Michael warned in a fatherly tone.

"This is an important moment, Michael. Here we are, on our way to almost certain death, bonding, pouring our hearts out, and this guy is sitting here, soaking it up and giving nothing in return!"

"Hey! If he don't remember—" Michael started to defend Franklin until Trevor cut him off.

"IF he don't remember? I'm supposed to trust this man with my life and he don't trust me with the details of his first bank job?"

"Well how bout you? Michael questioned. "Why don't you share with the group? I'm here, I'll back the facts."

"A checks cash place, I went in, took 'em for eight grand, walked out." Trevor spoke simply.

"Hah, it was a bit more complicated than that though, wasn't it, T?"

"MAYBE I knew the guy, MAYBE he ID'd me."

"Maybe. . .You did six months."

"Maybe. . .I was out in four. And that children is why we don't leave witnesses."

"THAT. . .Children, is why you don't rob people that you KNOW!"

Trevor started to laugh at the situation, obviously he knew he goofed but didn't entirely care. I smirked at him as he laughed at himself, then turned to Franklin, who should've felt more comfortable by now after hearing Trevor's story.

"Franklin, share?" Trevor asked.

"Yeah, come on, kid, it can't be worse than Trevor's," Michael spoke encouragingly.

"A'aight, man, shit. Okay. The score was like two stacks, man."

"Two G? Take home on your first gig? Fuuck that ain't bad man!"

"Man the whole score was two stacks! Only I didn't see none o' dat shit! Dye pack went off, homie! It was useless, then!"

"Dye pack?" Trevor questioned, he started laughing. "You amateur!"

I was holding in my laughter. Thankfully, Franklin was in the front with Michael so he couldn't see the look on my face. I was grinning so hard, holding my mouth, trying to cease the slightest laugh from escaping my lips.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you shit," Franklin spoke, obviously upset.

"Hey, Franklin, we all gotta start somewhere," Michael reassured him, he obviously also thought it was funny because, well. . . It was.

"Last time I tell yo ass somethin'." Franklin muttered.

"Now, come on. . ." Trevor started laughing while he spoke. Don't be so dull, man. Learn to laugh at yourself!"

Michael started to turn right, we were already close to the bank. "Hey Frank, we're gonna drop you off here, okay? When you hear it kick off, get ready, we're gonna wanna go ASAP."

"I'm on getaway, man, I'll do it." Franklin assured, getting out of the van.

"Alright you know where you gotta be?" Michael questioned him.

"I got it down." Frank reassured him.

"I'll bring a dye pack just for you!" Trevor joked as we drove off.

"We ready for this?" M asked as we started to pull up.

"I could use a restroom break," Trevor spoke.

"And risk getting ID'd? You're an idiot."

"I gotta goo! It's number two!"

"Yeah, well pinch it off?"

I couldn't contain my laughter this time, and placed my hand over my mouth as a fit of giggles escaped my mouth. I could see in Trevor's eyes that he found it humorous, and so did Patty.

"Cute laugh," Patty responded. I didn't have time to respond, and neither did Trevor who now looked upset. We were already at the bank, and we couldn't lose a single minute because of this situation.

I had to speak to him about Patricia, later, so this'd probably slide itself into that future argument. Fantastic.

"You all ready? Let's go!" Trevor spoke as he opened his door, I followed through along with Patty behind me as we headed towards the bank. We all grouped in front of the bank before Trevor and Pattie kicked the doors open, Trevor letting off his shotgun in the ceiling.

"On the floor!" Patty ordered.

"Today's going one of two ways, friends!" Trevor spoke, standing in front of the hostages. Patty ran to the vault as Michael and I stayed in the front of the bank. "Everyone on the floor! Now!" The hostages started to lay on the ground, obviously frightened by Trevor who now pointed at the two banktellers. "You and you! Out behind the counter! Hands in the air!" They started to slowly walk towards the green door to leave the small space, opening the door and then putting their hands in the air. "M, keep an eye on our trusted employee!"

M started to head to the back to watch P open the vault doors. "Okay, you and L got the crowd. Cops should be here soon, so keep an eye out."

"For sure," I responded, pointing a gun at the ground near a hostage. Of course I wouldn't shoot anyone, I would just intimidate them.

P called for M to kick down the metal door leading to the vault. Back where T and I were, we heard a car pull up. T turned to look out of the front, and then jumped out and shot off his shotgun. "Stay back! We got hostages!"

I moved my head to see the cops scramble to take cover.

Trevor ran to the back of the vault, I followed suit as Trevor let everyone know that the sheriff's here. "We never coulda beaten that response."

"There's other ways of beating it," Michael responded. We heard more cop sirens as the place started to become surrounded, we scrambled to put on our heavy armor, Trevor getting a hold of his mini gun and me getting a hold of mine.

One of the officers took out his speaker phone. "You know you're surrounded so you ain't getting a ride to the airport. So let the hostages go, and ah, we'll talk like gentlemen."

"Time to face the music," Trevor spoke as Michael and Patty kicked the door down, Trevor walking out from behind them as I held up my mini gun with Trevor. We watched as the man with the speaker phone slowly put down the device, fear spreading across his face as he realized what they had gotten themselves into by showing up to take us down. Trevor started to wire his gun up, it spun as it prepared to start gunning down the policemen ahead of us. We started to gun down the police cars as they exploded and flew every which way, sending some policemen flying as we tried to make our way into the entrance of an apartment structure. We ran through the back and started to shoot down a wooden picket fence while attempting to dodge the many cops that had tried to put us down.

We all had to separate in able to take down the most people, but I could hear everyone attempting to communicate through the headsets. We were going to meet up in a few minutes after I took a few cop cars and enemies down.

Everything started to slow down, and I started to feel as if everything was moving too fast around me. I felt myself freeze up as the ability to hear started to fade, and I was just standing there as if I was spectating someone else's life. An arm grabbed me, I spun around to look into the eyes of Patty.

"Lucy? We've been talking to you this whole time." I turned to look around me, and noticed for the first time I was shaking, and all my enemies were down.

"What?" I questioned, my voice hoarse. What was going on?

"Guys, something's wrong with Lucy."

I heard the voice as a distant, I felt everything around me get dizzy as I gripped onto Patty's arm, I collapsed against him as I started to feel nauseous. I felt him hoist me in his arms as he started to run slowly, I was too heavy for him to run too quickly. I felt the world around me as I looked up in the sky, the sun shining down as we tried to make our escape.

Suddenly, everything became clear, and I could hear everything around me. Gunfire and explosions. I pushed myself out of Patty's arms and onto the ground, catching myself on my feet and pulling my minigun back up as I started to fire at all the enemies who had started to surround us. I started to shoot them down with Patty, who seemed to shake off the fact I had recovered so fast to help me out.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," I whispered softly as I started to take down enemies with precision. We started to head in the pickup location as Franklin was getting a getaway vehicle.

"Are you okay?"

"If we all go, they'll get behind us. How about I push away, while you link with Franklin. Then we get out separate?" Patty questioned Michael, while Franklin was on his way.

"Sounds like a plan. L, your guy's good. I thought I was paying out for another idiot."

I smiled uneasily before Franklin came at us with a Bulldozer. I didn't question it, I just got in the front of it with Michael and Trevor, feeling Trevor's arms wrap around me so I didn't fall off. I let him hold me as I spaced out once more, holding my head.

I came back to reality once we got inside the factory. We started to take down enemies left and right, making sure to cover Franklin since he wasn't wearing any armor.

"You okay, F? Stay behind us, we have armor." Michael spoke to Franklin.

"L, stay behind me," Trevor spoke, I spun to look at him.

"Okay," I nodded, and stayed behind him, covering his back every time someone attacked him from the rear.

We still had to catch that train, so we ran to the back of the building where the train started to zoom by. "Here we go!" Michael spoke, and we all jumped in it. "Fuckin' A!" He started laughing. Trevor watched me with a worried glance as I curled into a ball.

"You okay?" Franklin asked me after a moment of silence. I looked up at him.

"I think it's from my head injury," I sighed. "I don't know. Everything just went blank, and I wasn't sure what was going on. . .I—I don't know." I sighed. "Maybe it won't happen again."

"You had us all worried there," Michael said, turning grim. I rubbed my head. I felt a slight throbbing pain.

"I'll be fine, don't you guys go worrying about me. Don't cut me out of the heists."

Trevor kept staring at me in silence. I didn't know what he was thinking, and it struck worry in me. I bit my lip and looked away, waiting until the train had reached its destination, hoping it would take only a short time, when I knew it would feel like hours until we arrived.


	13. Humane Labs

I woke up in my own bed. Trevor and I parted ways for the night, since Patricia was in his home. I still had to ask him about that, and I knew he still had to ask me about my relationship with Patty McReary, but for now, I just wanted to lay down. I wanted to feel safe after a day of my mind losing itself. What had happened to me? A side effect of my head injury? Permanent, or temporary?

I wanted answers, but I also didn't want them, so I made no effort to schedule a doctor's appointment. I wanted to pretend like it never happened.

I shifted in my bed, throwing the blanket off of my bottom half. Too warm for Sandy Shores.

The clock by my bed read 3:45AM in blocky, pixelized red numbers. I couldn't sleep.

I swung my feet over the side of the bed and planted them firmly on the new wooden floors Trevor and I had installed last time he came over to my house to work on it. I examined the walls, which I had painted myself just the other night while Trevor was hanging out with Michael in his trailer. The walls were a very soft, cream color, creating a soft glow to the room that before looked like a dark hole. I smiled. Felt like home, now.

I stood up and walked to my closet. It had to be about 75 degrees right now. Insanely hot for a San Andreas night. I put on a pair of red shorts, finding a nice white t-shirt to go with it and my black converse. I walked into the living room and looked around, the black floor tiles and the white walls creating a spacious environment, the black couch beckoning me to sit and watch tv, and the black bookcase craving I pick up a book and read, but I ignored both possible activities and called Trevor.

The phone rang a few times before the sound of a groan almost exploded the speakers of my phone.

"Baby, baby, baby, why. . " He groaned.

"I need to see you. Come over."

He let out a sigh, and kept quiet for a moment before finally hesitating. "Is it about what happened during the heist?"

"Partly."

"Okay, give me thirty minutes. I woke up in front of The Yellow Jack, I have to drive home, put clothes on, and head over."

My eyes widened. "Did you wake up naked?"

"Mostly."

I felt a grin tug at my mouth and I started laughing. "Hey, stop showing off the goods, those are mine to lick."

He started laughing in a low tone. "Oooh, oh baby, you never fail to surprise me."

The phone call was ended, I put the phone on the kitchen counter and sat at one of the two stools behind it. I started to prepare some food for the both of us, a little snack for when he showed up. Cheesy nachos. By the time I finished preparing it, there was a knock at the door. I took a beer from the fridge and opened the door for him, wordlessly handing him the drink. He nodded at me in thanks, taking a sip before sitting at the kitchen counter.

"Wanted to see me, sweet cheeks?" he questioned. I took the seat next to him, watching as he took a nacho from the cluster, a piece of cheese stretching far with his movement until it finally became too thin of a string and snapped. It was satisfying to watch.

"First off, what was that talk about the love affair with Patricia?" I questioned.

Trevor was chewing on the food now in between small moans. "Oh, yeah, that. Michael thinks I'm doing more than just flirting with her."

"You're flirting with her?"

"Well, to Michael I am." he swallowed his food. "I think she's arousing and all but I don't cheat on my ladies. How about you and McReary? What was that about?"

I sighed. "I knew you'd ask. Nothing happened, he's just found me attractive for as long as I can remember. And no one knows we're actually dating, so I can't exactly tell him to fuck off."

"See, that's another thing," Trevor spoke, taking another cheesy, beany chip. "Who the hell cares how Mikey and Frank feel about us?"

"Uh, me," I spoke, crossing my arms. "I'm not ready to tell them yet."

He let out a long groan. "Fine," he sighed. "Now, are we going to stop talking about this bullshit and talk about your little head problems?"

"I'm pretty sure it's just a side effect from my head trauma, nothing to worry about. . . " I hesitated. "I just need to sit the next mission out."

"Well, we're going to raid the Humane Labs to get some chemical weapon for the FIB, we're actually going to meet up there in thirty minutes."

"I can go to the meetup as well," I spoke. "I just may need to take an easy roll in it."

"I'll make sure that happens," he spoke. "Come on, let's go. I'm driving."

\--

"I'm the CEO of a big international corporation, it's very time consuming, nothing of course you'd understand being a gentlemen of pleasure." Trevor argued to Michael, then turned to Franklin to speak to him. "Y'know, yknow, Franklin, if there's one thing that you're gonna learn from being around us—" Trevor was cut off by Michael now.

"—Plead fuckin' insanity, then they can't fry ya," Michael continued for him dryly.

"If you want somethin' done, go to the busy man. This rich fuck, is useless," Trevor spoke, referring to Michael.

"Woah woah woah hold on, man, can y'all knock that shit off?" Franklin questioned. I agreed with Franklin, my head was throbbing.

"Oh, look!" Trevor spoke as he saw the two FIB agents approach us. "It's the boys, it's the feds!"

"Hey! Where's the other two?" Haines question in confusion and irritation.

"What other two?" Michael questioned, confused.

"We told you to bring along six!" Haines nearly shouted, exasperated. "This is a six man job!"

"No you didn't!" Michael argued.

"Dave did!" Haines spoke, pointing to Dave.

"No, Dave didn't!" Michael argued once more.

"You said you'd do it!" Dave piped up. This angered Haines even more.

He groaned angrily. "That is a freakin' lie! I do not get things wrong!"

"Alright great, then we're out of here, fuck you." Michael started to walk away.

Haines started to change his attitude. "Ah ah ah ah ah!"

"Let's go." Michael spoke.

Now Haines had a different attitude, as he tried convincing us to do this. "You guys can do it alone."

"And die? Fuck you. You do your own dirty work."

"Hey I do my own dirty work every day! Keeping the country safe from scum like you."

I laughed. "Scum like us are the only people competent enough to do your work, it seems. So maybe you should save the shit talking!" I shouted angrily now.

"You want this job done, huh? Then come with us! Come on, Mr. Leisure Wear, Mr. Depressed Accountant! Let's go save America!" Trevor spoke to the two douchebags. His hands were spread open and he was standing next to the ocean now.

"What are we saving it from this time?" Franklin whined.

"This is a big deal. My sources are convinced there's a plot in International Affairs, y'know the agency, and they're using the facility to make a serious nerve toxin."

This made Trevor laugh now. "Bullshit!" Trevor had started to skip rocks now.

"Yeah, which they plan, in their mind blowing insanity, to let a major terrorist release on a metropolitan area, so they can continue to get funding. Nothing increases funding for fighting terrorism more than successful acts of terrorism!"

I was sitting on a random tire by the boys now, Trevor started to walk over to stand closer to all of us.

"So—So alright, let me get this straight then—" Trevor started.

"No—No no no no no no no. There is no getting this straight, that's the point," Haines spoke, hand extended out to shush Trevor. "Now we're doing this! Now you two—three, keep forgetting the chick—Are on getaway. Fuck off and make it happen. Michael! You're with us! What size flipper you wear?"

I flipped off the son of a bitch and grouped with Franklin and Trevor. Michael followed the two FIB agents to their boat, obviously upset, as were Trevor, Franklin and I. These motherfuckers thought they could do whatever they wanted because they were the Government.

We got into Franklin's car and started to drive to the airfield. "Fuck those guys, man." Franklin spoke from the driver's seat.

"Yeah, what I'd give to kill those assholes," Trevor growled.

"Treatin' us with no respect, expecting us to do they shit, fuckin' wrong, man." Franklin responded.

I sighed, stretching in my seat. "Those two make Feds look bad. They're dirty as hell, and think we're the only wrong people in this scenario. Well, they're wrong."

"Hey, Haines seems to like you a little more than he likes us, he didn't yell at you when you stood up to him."

I scoffed. "Because I have tits. Men get all weak around boobs."

"Shit, well, I guess you could put it that way," Franklin spoke.

"That motherfucker is not my type. I would rather die than fuck that guy."

Trevor snickered. "What, you don't like domineering men?"

He was teasing me now. I smirked to myself. "Well, I don't know about that, now. He's a coward, he's domineering to try to prove he isn't a coward. I like men who don't hold cowardice in their hearts, men who lead because they are driven by goals, and ambition—Not by financial security."

"Find anyone like that yet?" Franklin questioned.

"Yup," I smiled.

"Who is the lucky guy?" Franklin asked.

"Someone," I was grinning. "So, Trevor, how's Trish?"

"Trish?" he asked. "Who the fuck is Trish?"

"Patricia."

"Oh," he laughed. "She's doing well."

I smirked to myself, leaning back in my seat. I took out my phone, and sent Trevor a text. It read, "You're gonna get some later, handsome."

His phone went off, he took it out of his pocket and glanced at it before letting out a low chuckle. He put his phone back in his pocket, and we arrived at the air base.

\--

Trevor left to fly the Cargobob to pick up Michael and that FIB agent with the toxin crap as Franklin and I stayed back at the airbase. I was currently sitting on the left wing of one of Trevor's airplanes, texting on my phone. "So Lester hooked you up with a Vinewood house?" I questioned. "I live two minutes away from your home. That's my second house. Only have it for the garage, but I prefer my Sandy Shores house."

He frowned. "I thought you said you lived somewhere cheap."

"It was cheap," I sighed. "For a house with a ten car garage. For all my vehicles."

"So you get a big ass house but prefer to live out here?" he sighed. "Man, I don't understand you. You got all dat money, and you ain't even using it."

I frowned, then laughed. "I bought so many cars."

He shrugged. "I guess so, but you only use like, three. And when's the last time you bought a new car?"

"It's been years," I sighed. "Bought all the ones I have now to just get it out of my system."

"See?" he shook his head. "Man, you and Trevor woulda been a great couple, had you not already found yourself a dude."

I had to stop myself from laughing at his comment. "Huh, I guess so," I spoke lightly before going back to my phone.


	14. Maurice

Franklin and I stopped what we were doing when we heard of an aircraft making its way closer to the base. I rushed out to see Trevor slowly easing the huge box he picked up onto a truck's long bed, then landing a few feet away from it with ease.

Everyone left the cargobob. Michael approached us. "Hey, Franklin. Hey Lucy."

"What's crackin', man?" Franklin asked. "So the chemical weapon in there, right?"

"If it even is a chemical weapon. Hell, it could be shaving cream for all I know. By the way, next time you're getting wet." He turned to Davy. "Oh, well there won't be a 'next time' will there Davy? Never is." He was speaking sarcastically now.

"Well, I always try," Dave spoke.

"Yeah, well maybe this time we'll get lucky. Maybe this time Steve will succumb to the strains of enhanced interrogation techniques."

"Hah, interrogate him, are you insane? They're probably decorating him right now." Dave responded. Typical.

"Hey, Davy, the boys at the agency are on to you, remember? Huh? You and Stevie?" Michael asked as Davy started to leave.

"Just try and keep your heads down!"

I snickered and watched Davy leave, getting into my car myself. "I'll see you guys later, I'm going home."

"Hey, you take care of yourself," Michael said with his hand extended. I smiled and nodded quietly to him before getting into my Rebel, and driving home.

I took my phone out and called Trevor, but he didn't answer. I frowned and stopped by his trailer. Ron was there. He was drunk, trying to shoot beer cans off of a box not two feet away from him.

"Hey, Ron, where's Trevor?"

"He went to go drop off Patricia," he slurred. "At Madrazo's."

I nodded. "Okay, I'll just wait inside the trailer."

He turned to me, eyeing me now. "Are you and Trevor seeing each other?"

I crossed my arms. "You're drunk."

"I won't tell anyone, trust me. Trevor would kill me if I told something I wasn't supposed to."

I looked around and sighed. "Yeah, Trevor and I are seeing each other."

Ron smiled now. "Glad he's found himself a nice girl who can handle him."

"I'm not always nice, Ron," I hesitated. "I've done things I'm not proud of. I'm a criminal. The CEO of Reaper Industries. I kill anyone who fucks with my shit."

He started to laugh softly now, his eyes were soft as he turned to me. "You sound perfect for him."

I grinned at this before thanking him and heading into Trevor's trailer. I sat on the couch and waited for him to come home, knowing Michael and Franklin wouldn't be heading here. No reason for them to.

I waited for an hour, deciding to sniff some gasoline in the meantime. I felt woozy, and everything was colorful. I was tripping out when he walked into the door, and I started laughing.

"Gasooooliiiiinnneee!" I squealed, laughing so hard I fell off of the couch and onto the floor. "Hey, sexy butt."

He looked at me oddly, his eyes changing shape and color as he looked at me. His head was also a shifting blob. "You sniffed some? Without me?" he joked, taking the cup I had poured, sniffing it as well. He let out a long sigh in relief as he sat next to me on the floor as I started to touch his face.

"I got bored, so yep I did this." I snickered. I pushed him back onto the trailer floor, straddling him before placing a nice kiss on his lips, our lips melding together for a moment before I broke away to start shaking my ass around the trailer. I was so gone at this point that I was just moving my body because it felt right to.

"God, I love you. . ." Trevor spoke. I froze what I was doing, and turned to look at him with wide eyes. Was he serious, or just playing with me?

"Really?" I questioned.

"You're fucking amazing, yeah," his expression was calming, eyes tame.

I felt my heart do somersaults in my chest. "I love you, too." I grinned. "I really love you. . ."

And with that, I was pinned against the wall with Trevor against me ravishing me with all of his love and passion.

\--

It was seven o'clock in the morning, and I was in Los Santos.

I decided to come here to talk to some Vagos. I wanted to promote one of them, but I wasn't sure who I could trust enough to be my right hand man.

I met them at Lester's warehouse by one of the many gas stations. I was sitting on top of my Zentorno, watching as my four warehouse managers approached me.

Eduardo, Johnny, Maurice and Paolo. Out of all of these people, I had known Maurice more, and I had trusted him to run some of the business in LV while I was gone.

Eduardo was more fiscally responsible, he ran a tight ship and never, not even once, had a late shipment.

Paolo was the newest guy, but he proved to be laid back and collected, I've had a few casual conversations with him. He was easy to talk to.

And Johnny. . . Well, Johnny was friends with everyone, and could get me new clientele if I wanted him to.

Still, none of them could ever match up to Carlos. I felt a pang in my chest, and realized how much I missed him.

"Okay, men. I've brought you all out here today because you've proven to be exceptional leaders and you've gotten my shit out for sales, and you've done amazing jobs. You four men are what I look for in managers, and ship out those 200 crates worth of product like well-oiled machines. I'm giving you all raises, but also . . . One of you will take the place of Carlos." I examined their faces. Maurice and Eduardo seemed way more excited than Johnny and Paolo. I watched them a few minutes as I internally decided. Maurice seemed to be the most loyal member. "Maurice."

Maurice grinned. "Thank you for this opportunity."

"No problem, Maurice." I hopped off of my car. "And I checked all of your warehouses this morning, everything's running smoothly, thank you for all of your hard work and dedication." I smiled, then got into my car. I left the door open to say one last word to Maurice. "Your first job: Find a new warehouse manager." I closed my door, then drove away. I received a text from Trevor.

"Meet at my new business, The Vanilla Unicorn."

I frowned. New Business? The Vanilla Unicorn? I typed it into my GPS and started to head over there.


	15. 15: The Vanilla Unicorn

I found the location. It was in Strawberry, Los Santos.   
The building itself, from the front at least, was black, the upper deck being black, outlined with a tacky, red neon, with “Horny Girls” written in purple, neon cursive to the left end, purple lines stretched along this phrase with even more neon to grab the attention of the person walking in.  
A few feet to the right of the middle of the establishment was a large, rectangular sign that read “VANILLA UNICORN” in cream letters, a crescent holding a unicorn in the center above the title, and below the title read “GENTLEMEN’S CLUB” in smaller letters.   
In the center of the building, a black umbrella roof outlined in purple neon led the customer into the building, along with a ‘luxurious’ carpet where a bouncer waited in the front, dressed in black.   
To try to fancy the place up, the place had three white columns on each side of the entrance, along with a large planter to the right of the entrance containing a poor, small selections of flowers.  
The area around this place had trash littered everywhere, and the trash cans were not ten feet from the entrance, Trevor’s red truck parked in front of them. No one else’s car I recognized. Just his.   
I drove around the front, to the right of the structure to find an actual parking lot, finding about four parking spaces, all empty. I parked to the far left, stepping out of the car and turning to look behind me at the sketchy little place underneath the freeway that stretched out to the right of the establishment, and saw a bunch of shady people lurking out in the shadows along with some homeless people. Homeless people didn’t perturb me, but the black vans inside of the little nook did.   
I brushed it off, realizing that some places in Los Santos just had “Sketchy Business” written all over it, and entered the strip club, the bouncer giving me an interested look as I passed him. He gave me a light welcome, which I merely nodded once to, before entering.  
I walked into the end of a white hall, turning right to find an open door leading to a bar. I turned left to find a hallway into a door with a sign above it in fancy, blue letters reading, “Premium Lounge,” red curtained areas to the left of that, and down the stairs to the right of that hallway was a walkway with poles for the strippers, along with seats and tables for the residents to either sit in front of the women or to the back of the little area near what looked to be a DJ booth.   
Fergalicious by Fergie was playing loudly as I dodged some drunk patrons, hearing a familiar voice speaking about being turned on by “clown face.” Wade?  
I peeked around one of the curtained rooms that was mostly revealed to find Wade with two mostly nude women giving him lap dances. “Wade! Where’s Trevor?”   
“Looking for the new boss, honey?” I heard, and turned to come face to face with a stripper with short, black hair and cocoa colored skin. She wore long, red boots that went up mid-thigh, along with a black bikini, lined with red, matching the thin bikini bottoms she wore. She wore a choker, and had tattoos along her right upper arm.  
“Yeah, I am.” I spoke.  
“Follow me,” she spoke, walking in front of me slowly in a sultry, sexy motion. She was probably used to walking like this by now to attract more customers.  
We passed through the red curtains over the door entrance labelled Premium Lounge, passing a bouncer to the right who was guarding some private show rooms. We walked through a yellow door which turned out to be the dressing room, then turned to the right to another door at the end of a tight hallway. I walked through the red door, but not before looking through the small curtained entrance to the right where the start of the catwalk started, and the woman who helped me walked through the curtains as the DJ introduced her as “Infernus.”  
When I got inside of the small office, it seemed I had made it there before the other guys. It was just Trevor working on shoving something inside of the fridge. He’d probably killed someone, but I wasn’t going to mention it to him.  
I sat down on the couch in the office. “So. A strip club.”  
“Do you like it?” he laughed. “Chastity has your body. You guys could be twins for Halloween.”  
“The one with the red corset? And short black hair? Thanks, I guess. . .” I sighed. “Guess you’re gonna be around huge tits and round asses all day. Expect surprise visits from your girlfriend.” I folded my arms.  
“Aaaw, someone’s jealous,” Trevor teased.  
“Well, duh! They’re all smoking,” I frowned. “And you’d literally screw anything anyways if I wasn’t here, you’re suave, don’t act like you haven’t screwed a whole bunch of ladies. And inanimate objects.”   
“Hey,” he spoke firmly. “Don’t you go doubting me, you know I’m faithful.”  
I nervously flashed him a smile before hesitating, turning once more to glance at the women. “They’re pretty spicy.”  
“Not like you, sweet cheeks,” he whispered in my ear before he turned away from me as Trevor, Franklin and Michael walked in. I leaned back and examined the three before hugging my waist, feeling insecure and out of place in this strip club.


	16. 16: Talk about The Big One

I sat at Trevor’s desk, waiting for the boys to walk in. Trevor was really working on getting the fridge shut as Michael entered.  
“Hey,” Trevor greeted him. “Before you ask, the fridge is broken.”  
“That’s alright, I’ve had enough of your hospitality already,” Michael replied, as he started wiping off the couch seat, assuming it was dirty. Probably because Trevor was not that neat of a person, but he just got this business, so it would be as clean as it ever would be right now.   
“I changed my ways, alright?” Trevor spoke, Franklin walked in now as Michael stood back up and walked over to him. They fist bumped. “Yeah I’m done with that crazy shit, alright? I wanna square things away, with Merryweather, make sure the agency ain’t coming back for us, and then do one last big score, and then you get to go back to your family.” Michael had situated himself onto the couch, he leaned back in his seat and watched Trevor who leaned his hand against the fridge, waving a beer bottle around with the other. “Me? I’m just gonna live here. I’m gonna run this, this good business showing people a good time. Bust Brad out of prison, and then you know. . .” He stretched his arms out. “Happy!” he had a large smile now as he looked at all of us. I laughed to myself. He was adorable.  
Franklin started to clap now. He sat on the desk, facing Trevor. “So how’d you come by this place anyway?” he questioned.  
“Had it for ages,” Trevor lied.   
“So you must know Leon, the old manager,” Franklin spoke. Michaels eyes suspiciously shifted to look at Trevor.   
“Leon, er. . .No.”  
“Yeah whatever man,” Franklin spoke, letting it go, waving his hand once in the air. “So what’s goin’ on here?”   
“What’s going on. . .” We all turned to see Lester walk in, slightly wavering to the side as he leaned on his cane for a moment before walking in the door with some difficulty. “Is the big one.”  
Trevor walked to the couch and put one foot on the seat cushion closest to the fridge.   
“The big one?” I questioned, I turned to look at Trevor, then Michael, then Franklin. I looked for clues in their expressions. I found Michael and Trevor to be completely elated as they looked at each other in excitement, and Franklin a bit eager to find out what the big one was as well.   
“A long, long time ago, in a faraway place, there were three guys: Michael, Trevor, and Lester.”  
“And Brad,” Trevor added, waving his hand up lazily.   
“Ah, yeah, sure, Brad was there sometimes as well,” Lester spoke after hesitating a tad. “I mean there were other guys though, too, so uh. . . Anyway. We robbed and lied and we hurt people. Pretty much lived a low life kind of existence. . . but always dreaming of one thing, and one thing only. . .”  
“The big one.” Trevor spoke softly.   
“The big one.” Michael repeated.  
“The big one!” Trevor, Michael and Lester screamed in unison.  
“What is the big one?!” Franklin asked, clearly frustrated now.  
“Yeah, that didn’t exactly answer our question,” I spoke, crossing my arms. Trevor’s eyes immediately flashed at my cleavage, as folding my arms pushed my breasts together. I tried to fight the smirk from my face as he flashed me a discreet wink before turning back to look at Les.  
“The Union Depository,” Michael spoke happily.  
“Around two hundred million in gold bricks, all taken from kindly Uncle Sam. We’ll spend the rest of our lives being hunted down by government officials, if we live through the attempt. But—“  
“But!” Trevor shouted excitedly.  
“—It’ll be my, eh. . .Our. . . masterpiece. So, gentlemen. Let’s do our civic duty, and get out there and find some gainful employment! This way.” Lester started to walk to the other door.   
We walked to the two vehicles. Trevor’s truck, and behind it, Michael’s car. Lester walked to the passenger seat of the Bodhi as Trevor walked to the driver’s seat, flashing me a glance before I sighed and took the backseat of Michael’s Tailgater.   
“Come in. You there? Alright. We’re on a strict schedule,” Lester’s voice came out of our headsets. “There’s a couple of armored cars on a dry run to the depository—intel suggests they’ll be going down Innocence Boulevard in East LS at approximately fifteen thirty. Trevor and I need to map their route for a possible hijack point, so we’re going to his airfield in Blaine County and coming back in his chopper to intercept. Michael, Franklin, Lucy, all you gotta do is take the temperature at the bank, see if there’s anything that stands out.”  
“Eh. . . We, ah. . .Taking the temperature?” Franklin questioned. I guessed he wasn’t sure with the lingo.   
“Yeah, you know, getting a feel for it—Security, exit routes, general vibe.”  
“A’aight.” Franklin responded as Michael pulled up to the bank.  
“Doesn’t look like much,” Michael spoke.  
Franklin elaborated. “Man, security looks light. We send in a couple a sprung niggas—clap clap,” I examined it a little harder. There must’ve been a reason this was ‘the big one,’ a previously intangible heist.   
“What are you talking about, Frank?” Michael questioned.  
“Oh, I see it, man. Gettin’ in the door’s easy, it’s a standard bank, it’s getting underground that’s hard. Ain’t that where the metal’s kept?” Franklin questioned.  
“Right. Now, we gotta stop outside the Arcadius Center down on Alta Street, we can get a view of the back form there.” Michael spoke. He started to drive again.   
I took out my phone and texted Trevor

ME: Missin you ;*

I put my phone back in my pocket. A lovey dovey text never hurt anyone.  
“Hey man, you might not a noticed, but I picked up a few things rolling with you. I mean, there’s time I think I got to be the senior partner in the group—from the way you and Trevor behave.”  
“I’m sorry. There’s history there.”   
“Yeah, it still ain’t fully been explained to me, though. . .”  
“No? Well, remind me to go over it with you some other time. . .But not now.”  
I wondered what the story was from Michael’s point of view, because I damn well knew Trevor’s perspective.   
I wasn’t too sure on which ‘side’ I chose for that, but I understood both of their frustrations.   
“Look, dog. . .Light again, man.” Franklin spoke, gesturing to the back entrance of the bank.   
“Yeah, fuckin’ eerie, ain’t it?” Michael was watching the lone guard in the front of the back door.   
“Just one guy, picking at his sac,” I sighed as I watched the man who was super curious in the crotch of his pants, as he put his hand down there to adjust it. “For a high profile bank.”  
“Yeah, huh,” Michael questioned. “Maybe we really are broke,” Michael paused before clicking on his headset. “Trevor, how’re ya doing?”   
“Well. . . “ We heard Trevor groan on the other side of the mic. It sounded like he was peeing. “Like clockwork, Mikey. Like clockwork . . .”  
My phone vibrated in my pocket, so I took it out to look at it.

TREVOR: Meet up afterwards, baby.  
Me: You got it, sexy.

I grinned to myself in the back, so giddy I could squeal.

Michael had dropped me off at my car, the Zentorno. I drove to The Vanilla Unicorn and sat on his desk, waiting. I had cleared items off of his desk to make our little ‘meeting’ easier.  
Trevor and Lester got the information they needed already. Shouldn’t have taken them too long, Trevor was a fantastic pilot. I took out my phone to message him.

ME: Waiting at The Vanilla Unicorn. On your desk… ;)  
TREVOR: Ooh, yeah. on my way. 

About a few minutes later of probable reckless driving, Trevor swung open the office door and immediately came to me, pushing me down so I was laying down long ways on the desk. I had taken the liberty of undressing myself, and he was loving this.  
His hands slid up my thighs, sliding around to grab onto my ass to squeeze it tightly before he brought his hands up to my waist, his hands turning into c-shaped cups as he extended his thumbs out away from the rest of his fingers as he placed his hands under my breasts, pushing them together and playing with them. I bit my lip and yanked on his shirt. “This. Take it off.”  
“Of course, baby,” he growled lowly, seductively, knowing how that turned me on. He obliged, immediately ripping the piece of stained, white fabric off and the then started to work on his pants, pulling them off quickly along with his boxers, leaving us both nude.  
“Did you lock the door?” I questioned as he started to attack my neck with licks, kisses and bites. I let out a small moan.   
“Fuck the door,” he growled. He attached his mouth onto mine harshly, our tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Mid kiss, he grabbed my throat and squeezed softly, I gasped.   
“A little harder, Trev,” I pleaded, he pulled away from the kiss to look at me as his eyes widened with surprise, then lust as he tightened his grip on me. “Come back here and fucking kiss me.”  
He did as I asked, slamming his mouth back onto mine, kissing me with even more ferocity than before as he then started to spread my legs open. I let out a small breath of air as I knew what was coming next.  
He started to rub my sex, grinning once he realized I was already ready to go. “Do you still want foreplay?”  
“Just fuck me already,” I spoke, my eyes half lidded as I gazed upon his body. I felt a shiver of delight go through me.   
He put a rubber on, then positioned himself into me, placing one leg over his shoulder and entered in me. I let out a loud moan as I arched my back, eyes closing. “Ooh, my god baby,” Trevor groaned. He pushed himself in deeper, causing me to let out another moan as I felt all of him. He started steadily slamming himself in me, not as fast as I’d like but I knew he was savoring the moment before he let me have it.   
I looked up at him and caught his eyes. It was like he read my mind, and he started to slam into me deeper, harder, as his fingers latched onto my clit to stroke it in a circular motion as he relentlessly pounded into me. I gasped at the feeling of immense pleasure, arching my back once more before my hands landed on the desk to claw into it, needing to grip onto something as Trevor took me on a ride of total bliss.   
“Fuck, oh my god,” I gasped breathlessly as I felt the pleasure wrack through my body. “Oh my god oh my god!”   
“You like that baby?” He purred lustfully as he started to pound into me even faster. “Scream my name.”  
“Make me,” I spoke, daring him to. He grinned and started to screw me even harder, the sound of our skin slapping turning me on as I gripped onto the desk and he grabbed my throat with his hand. “TREVOR!” I screamed, feeling that moment coming, feeling the buildup in my lower stomach. “I’m close, I’m so fucking close!”  
“Me too baby, me too,” he groaned as he started to fuck me harder, releasing my neck to grab my hips to slam into himself. I let out a loud cry as I felt my climax hit me, I shivered and collapsed on the desk as he came as well, coaxed by my climax as his chest rose and fell, and he collapsed on my chest. “Fuck.”  
He lifted himself off of me, propping himself up with an elbow. “I really love you,” he spoke, staring into my eyes. “Like, fuck.”  
I smiled, and leaned forward, kissing him. “I love you, too, Trevor Philips.”


	17. 17: The Phone Call

“Maurice, I need your status report by 10:00AM,” I spoke on the phone. I was leaning against the wall of a liquor store, near the door. I would go inside to purchase a few drinks, but I had to finish my morning’s business first. “Also, collect the inventory of all of the warehouses. If any numbers are off, let me know so I can check those specific warehouses.”  
“Of course, boss,” Maurice spoke.   
“Also, let Paolo know his warehouse is going to be receiving a shipment of new product, as our cooks near his warehouse had to cook using different chemicals.”  
“Your wish is my command, m’lady.”  
I chuckled. “Alright, thanks Maurice. If anything changes, let me know ASAP.” I hung up the phone and opened the door of the liquor store, but I fell backwards as a large man pushed passed me. I frowned. “Damn, excuse you.”  
“Fuck you!” he retorted. I flipped him off, he came to punch me out and I grabbed his fist, and kicked him in the nads. He groaned and fell on the floor, holding his twins. “Damn it, lady.”  
I continued to walk into the liquor store. I grabbed a 6-pack of Pisswasser, along with a few iced teas and Sprunks. I also bought a few Meteorites. I paid, then walked out to my Rusty Rebel, getting in and placing my items on the seat next to me. Where was Trevor?  
I picked up my phone and called him, but I got no answer. I frowned.   
Where the hell was he?  
I drove to his house, and knocked on the door. No one home. I broke in and sat on his couch, sighing, crossing my legs as I waited for him. I gave him another ring.   
This time, he answered.  
“Baby, can’t talk. In North Yankton.”  
I blinked. “Uhm, excuse me, what? Why are you all the way out there?”  
“I think Brad is dead, Lucy, and I think he’s buried where Michael shoulda been.”  
Oh, shit.  
I took a deep breath. “Did you try to talk to Michael first?”  
“Fuck Michael! He’s pretending like he has no idea but I’m not stupid!” he angrily spoke.   
“Where are you now?”  
“I just got off my plane, I’m taking a car, I’m going to drive to the cemetery and check it out myself.”  
“And what happens if your suspicions are correct, Trevor? Are you going to ignore Michael? Are you going to give up The Big Score? God, I know you’re upset, but is this the best decision—“  
He cut me off now. “What the fuck would you do in this situation, Lucy? How would you feel?”  
I was quiet now. He got me there. I hesitated. “Be safe, I love you.”  
“I love you, too,” he responded, then hung up. God, did Michael know that Brad was dead? Did he know they buried him instead of Michael?  
All of these damn questions, and I wasn’t sure what to say anymore.  
My phone started to ring again, I checked it. UNKNOWN CALLER.  
I frowned, and answered it.  
“Hello?” I questioned. I was confused. Only personal contacts knew my phone number.  
“H-hello, Lucy, it’s your mother.”  
I sat up straighter on Trevor’s couch. I hadn’t spoken to my mother since child services took me away from her and my father.  
“Wow, nice talk, goodbye,” I spoke, I was about to hang up on her when she stopped me.  
“W-wait, wait! Please, oh God, don’t hang up on me,” she moaned, I could hear her voice start to waiver. “I am so, so sorry for how you grew up.”  
The first time I’d ever heard her apologize, and it was on the phone, about fifteen years later. “Wow, thanks, you just cured my insanity, and you stopped me from committing crime,” I spoke sarcastically, I was surprised they were even still alive, to be honest. “How have you guys not OD’d yet?”  
My mother sighed at this. “Honey, I have been clean for five years, your father has been clean for three. We felt it was time to contact you, see how you were, we heard that auntie and uncle died, but we weren’t sure—“  
“How my business was going? Why, did you want money? Is that why you’re calling me?” I spat. “Yeah, I still run the business, and no, I won’t give you a cent. I won’t feed that nasty addictions of yours.”  
“Lucy, I swear, we’re not—“  
“You don’t get to just waltz back into my lives after being the shittiest parents on Earth,” I roared. “You don’t get that luxury. You don’t get shit.”   
“Can’t you give us one more chance?” my mother questioned. She sounded pained, now. Sincere, almost.   
God, a second chance? A second chance?   
I hissed, letting out a groan. “I’m not coming out there to visit you.”  
“We’ll come visit you. Where do you live?”  
I walked to Trevor’s room now and lay on his bed. I felt exhausted by this stupid conversation.  
“Sandy Shores.”  
There was a pause on the other line. “Really?”  
“And Los Santos, but I prefer my Sandy Shores house. If you don’t like that, then don’t come.”  
“Oh, no no no, we will visit you! Are you seeing anyone?”  
Oh, god, this talk now. I rolled my eyes. “Why?” I bluntly questioned.  
“I, I don’t know, I don’t know if you’ve gotten married yet, or had children yet—“  
“No, none of that, not married and not a mother. How can I be? I run a drug cartel. I’m in a relationship with someone. But not married.”  
“Well, we’d like to meet him when we stop by, what was your address again?”  
I sighed loudly. “Uhm, 140 Zancudo Avenue.”  
“Splendid, when can we come out there to see you?”  
I looked at the time. Trevor would hopefully be home by tonight, maybe we’d get to talk about this little ‘family reunion,’ maybe he could help me out.  
“Er, the day after tomorrow.”  
“Wednesday?”  
“Uh, yeah, Wednesday.”  
I heard a squeal now. “Okay, thank you so much, Lucy, you won’t regret giving us this second chance!”  
I hung up.  
Why had I agreed to that?


	18. 18: Bedroom Conversations

I woke up to a hand pushing me gently. I groaned and buried my face into the pillow that was underneath me. I was exhausted.  
“Lucy,” the voice of the person who nudged me spoke, I recognized the voice and lifted my head up, turning to look up at him. Trevor.  
I wordlessly wrapped my arms around him, pulling him alongside me as I buried my face into his chest. “Trevor, how did it go?”  
He grumbled. “Brad was buried in Michael’s grave.”  
This woke me up now. I sat up and looked at his face, I could barely make out his expression in the darkness. I placed my hand on his cheek. “I—. . . Fuck Michael,” I growled now, I was angry. What kind of friend was that? How could he keep something like that from Trevor? “I—I mean, I guess it’s because he has a family, but to not tell you, to betray your loyalty, I—. . .” I shook my head. I was too angered to process words at this point.  
“Oh, Michael won’t be bothering us for a while,” Trevor responded. I eyed him curiously.  
“What do you mean?”  
He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my lips. “Let’s just say he’s taken care of.”  
I eyed him for a moment. “Does Franklin know?”  
“He’ll find out.”  
I folded my arms. “And you’re okay with that? With Michael dead?”  
“Oh, they won’t kill Michael,” Trevor spoke. He paused. “Yet. Knowing the kid, he’ll go save him.”  
I put my head in my hands and curled up in a ball on the bed and let out a long groan. “God, I hate today,” I muttered.  
“What, relaxing was too hard for ya?” Trevor spoke, and I could tell he was rolling his eyes.  
“No, my parents called.”  
He fell silent now. He knew what this meant. He knew what they did, how they were, how shitty my childhood was.  
“And?” he questioned a bit harshly.  
“They’re coming here on Wednesday for their ‘second chance’ at parenting.”  
“You’re fuckin’ thirty-four!” He grabbed me and pulled me into his chest, a hand resting on my ass now.  
I giggled now. “Well, I mean, not parenting, per se, but our relationship. After fifteen years they want to come here and try to fix what they did. They want to meet you, and—“  
“Woah, woah woah woah, sweet cheeks. They want to meet me?” his body had stiffened under me, he gently nudged me off of him. “Why?”  
“They asked me if I was in a relationship.”  
“I’m not exactly the type of guy you introduce to your parents, sweetie.”  
“Do you think you have to impress them?” I questioned. “And, also, hon, I do the same things you do for a living, the only difference is I’m a chick.”  
“Yeah, a smokin’ hot babe and I’m here, smokin’ hot as well, of course, but. . . I look crazy compared to you.”  
I straddled his hips now, my hands running up and down his chest. “Fuck what anyone says. I love you.”  
He grinned. “Aw, how did I land someone like you?” his hand slid into my shirt.   
“Pure fuckin’ luck,” I mused, grinning, I placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. “So, any crazy parents of yours I have to meet?”  
He automatically tensed and let me go. He sat on the edge of his bed now. “She’s not coming around any time soon,” he spoke. He sighed, running his hands through his patchy hair.   
I hesitated, then crawled over to him, resting my head on his shoulder. I decided to change the subject. “So where did you learn how to pilot?”  
“What?” he questioned.  
“Where did you learn how to pilot?”  
“Oh, I joined the US Air Force. It was great and all, but just a few fuckin’ days before a mission this evil fuckin’ shrew performed a stupid ‘psychological evaluation’ on me, and I was discharged. So I never got to see any action.”  
I frowned. Wow, nice job Lucy, keep bringing up depressing shit to him.  
“I’m trying to figure out how to fly my product to neighboring states,” I spoke. “I mean, a van full of drugs can only get so far without getting checked.”  
He lay himself back on the bed and pulled me against his chest. “Trevor Philips Industries could assist you on your, ‘quest’, to transport cocaine,” he spoke. “Just speak with the CEO.”  
“Okay,” I spoke, I turned away to look at the wall, and whipped back around to look at him in the eyes. “Hello, I’d like to speak with the CEO of Trevor Philips Industries.”  
“I’ll go get him,” he spoke.   
He closed his eyes, and opened them back up.  
“Oh, hi there, how can I help you? And all that bullshit.”   
I giggled.  
“I would like to ask if you could assist me with flight travel for my packages, my oh so heavy packages of. . . Fun.”  
“Oh, well, let me check my schedule.” He paused. “Okay, it looks like we can have a shipment of yours shipped out tomorrow morning. Where to, sweetums?”  
I grinned. “I’ll give you the layout once I get back from my house tomorrow. All my shipping plans are there. Could you teach me how to fly?”   
He looked at me questioningly. “Er, babe, as much as I would love to sit next to you as you potentially kill us with your zero piloting skills and knowledge, I’ll have to pass.”  
I pouted. “Well, can I rely on you to be my pilot all the time?”  
He grinned. “That’s what I’m best at, baby, you know Uncle T will get you wherever you wanna go,” he poked me. I laughed and poked him back.   
“Okay, okay, I trust you. But I swear, you let me down even once, and heads will roll.”   
“Is that a promise?” he questioned.   
“Oh, yeah it is.”  
“Mmm, I love it,” he spoke, pinning me down on the bed under me. “I love you, you little fuckin’ psychopath,” he kissed down my neck now.  
“I’m not that psycho,” I snickered.


	19. 19: Supercar Delivery for Devon Weston

The next morning, Trevor had left to deliver some vehicles for Devon Weston. Apparently, these were super cars. I would have asked to come along, but it wasn't my mission, it was Trevor's, Franklin's, and Lamar's.

There was no room for me in the three seat towtruck, and Trevor and I were still a secret duo. I wished that everyone knew, so I could have had Lamar's job in this situation, and I could be sitting with Trevor and Franklin instead of him.

I sat on Trevor's bed, figuring out what to do now. I was thinking of looking online for nice cars, but I already had so many in my other garages. I didn't need any more.

I stretched my legs, yawning as I buried my face into the pillow. He hadn't said goodbye to me this morning. Probably thought he would have woken me up. I got up from the bed and walked outside, finding Ron shooting cans. "Hey, Ron," I greeted.

"Hey, Lucy. Trevor looked happy this morning," he spoke, then smiled at me.

This made me grin. "Yeah, good," I spoke, then got into my Rusty Rebel. "Catch you later."

I drove to The Vanilla Unicorn. Wade was still there getting his thousandth lap dance. I sighed and shook my head at him, poor guy entranced by 'boobies.' I wondered when the last time he showered was. Or slept.

"Hey," I turned to find the stripper who I had met when I first came in here. The girl with the long, red boots. "You're one of the boss's friend's."

"Yeah," I responded.

"He isn't around today."

"Yeah, I know, I'm just. . ." How was I going to explain what I was doing here? I certainly wouldn't be allowed in Trevor's office without him. "Gonna have a few drinks," I spoke, eyeing the bar.

She smiled, and leaned against the wall, folding her arms. "You could strip, you know."

"Thank you, but I already have a job," I responded with a smile. She shrugged.

"For fun, I mean. And extra money. No one could ever have too much of that."

She had a very different view on life than I did, that was for sure.

I laughed softly. "No, thanks. It would be super weird if Trevor was my boss, since we're, er, friends, y'know."

"Oh," she spoke, and smiled. "I guess you're right, girl. Well, have fun." She turned and started to wave at customers who had just walked in, who floated to her, obviously entranced. Wasn't my thing.

I walked to the bar and took a seat, taking my phone out and placing it on the table in case it went off. I was eager for Trevor to message me or something.

I sat there, drumming my fingers against the counter until I sighed and stretched. Maybe I should have started to clean up my home for my parents. Or maybe I shouldn't give a shit at all about how they see my life.

I'd allow them to visit my Sandy Shores home, I didn't care enough to impress them with my Los Santos home. They weren't worth driving there and dealing with the pesky, rich residents. They'd have to deal with the cool meth heads that lived around me.

I ordered a few shots of gin, which I hesitantly took, I wasn't used to drinking without Trevor anymore. I frowned and picked up my phone and left the establishment. Since I was Trevor's friend, I drank for free. I didn't really want to abuse that privilege, and I also didn't really want to drink alone around a bunch of skeevy men.

I dialed Trevor's number and leaned against the wall, near the freeway overpass. I could start to feel the burning in my throat become a numbing sensation as my vision started to blur. That gin was stronger than I had expected it to be, unlike the shitty alcohols in Sandy Shores. Holy shit.

"Hello?" Trevor questioned. "I'm a little busy."

"Baby," I whined.

"What?" he questioned harshly into the phone, but I could hear he was being rude since Franklin was probably right next to him at the moment.

"I love you," I purred. "I love you and I am so bored without you home, please come home so we can do some stupid shit, pleaseeee," I moaned.

"Wow, you're wasted," I heard Trevor's amused voice on the phone before I heard sirens in the background. "Shit, I have to go. Talk to you later."

He hung up, leaving me hanging as I sighed and put my phone back in my pocket. I turned back into the Vanilla Unicorn and headed inside Trevor's office. I didn't care if they didn't like me here. I lay myself on his couch and allowed myself to drift into a deep, drunken sleep.


	20. Meeting the Parents

“How do I look?” Trevor asked after I let him inside of my house. I grinned and folded my arms, leaning against the door frame. I looked at him from his scraggly, patchy hair to his clean, black shoes. Looked like his brown ones, just black.  
He also wore a pair of nice black jeans, and the purple bowling shirt I liked on him.  
“Did you go shopping?” I questioned, placing my hands on my mouth while letting out a small giggle. He grinned and leaned forward, placing a kiss on my forehead.   
“Yes, I did, sweetums.”  
“Why are you acting different?” I snickered. “They’re not here yet. Be vulgar, fly off the handle.”  
He raised his eyebrow, a grin playing at his mouth but not quite reaching it just yet. He walked around me to the kitchen, opening the fridge to take a beer out of it. “Can’t believe that Weston job was a bust.”  
“Yeah, fuck that guy,” I spoke, I turned to look at him. “But real talk. How are you about Michael being alive?”  
I had gotten a call of a scared Franklin looking for Michael. I was in the middle of stealing supplies for one of my labs since a rival business stole them from me, so I couldn’t exactly help him, but he did have a tracking device from Lester so I knew he wouldn’t have that much trouble.  
Since then I’ve been keeping tabs on the both of the boys, who would keep in touch with me since they didn’t know my relationship with Trevor existed. Michael was working with that Solomon guy, the director. I also knew there was another heist coming up, but Trevor wouldn’t be in on it.   
I told them I wanted to wait until I spoke to a neurologist so I didn’t have a repeat of the Paleto score. They agreed, and told me to a) stay away from Trevor, and b) tell them what happens with the neurologist.  
Of course, I wasn’t going to do either of those, since a) I was with Trevor, and b) I hadn’t made an appointment with a neurologist, as I was trying to avoid that altogether, since I was scared of what they’d have to say about it.  
“I don’t know, Lucy,” he spoke. “But us keeping this relationship a secret means you can be friends with them without it being weird for them right now, so I guess whatever, you can huddle up with them and go fuck around, I don’t care,” he practically seethed. He did care.  
“Babe, I—“  
The doorbell stopped me from speaking. I hesitated and looked at the door, biting my lip, turning to look at him. All the anger and frustration had left me, and I know it left him, too, as we both looked at each other uncomfortably.   
My heart was beating so fast I wasn’t sure it would stop, and I could feel it drop into the pit of my stomach.  
I didn’t want to answer the door, I didn’t want to make eye contact with those assholes. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.  
“The door.” Trevor spoke. He motioned towards it, as if he thought I didn’t hear it. He knew I heard it, he was reminding me that I’d have to face them sooner or later. I couldn’t just stand here looking like an idiot.  
I let out a long sigh, turning to look at the door. I bit my lip and walked towards it, my steps feeling heavy, I just wanted to go to bed and put the covers over me and forget they were here.  
But my hand grabbed the doorknob, and turned it ever so slowly until the door clicked open, I pulled the door back and stood there, staring at the two people who had the nerve to call themselves my parents.  
My father was fifty-six, my mother was fifty-five, but they looked like they were in their mid-sixties.  
I looked at my mother, the short Filipino woman with long greying hair to her mid-back and light brown eyes, then at my father, the tall white haired man with the same blue eyes as mine, and immediately wanted to shut the door on them.  
I took a step back and hesitated.  
“Lucy,” my mother spoke, her eyes started to fill with tears. “Oh, Lucy,” she started to get choked up as she looked me up and down. “You’re so beautiful.”  
“Thanks.” I spoke bluntly, I turned to look at Trevor, who was nowhere to be seen. Fucker was probably waiting in the kitchen and didn’t want to intrude on this ‘touching’ moment. Damn. “So come in, I guess,” I moved out of the way so they could walk inside. They look a look around, my dad letting out a whistle.  
“Looks like you have the nicest house in Sandy Shores.”  
“Depends on how you define ‘nice,’ I guess,” I spoke. “But thanks.”  
Trevor wasn’t in the kitchen, either. Damn. I guess he wanted me to call for him when I wanted to introduce them.  
“So, how is business?” my mother asked me, sitting down on the couch, wincing. She always had a bad hip.  
My father took the seat next to her.  
“It’s fine, I’m successful, it’s great, there’s your summary of how my life is going.” I folded my arms.  
My parents hesitated and looked at each other. “Honey, please can we keep it civil today? We’re just happy to see you. We can discuss what happened—“ I cut my dad off.  
“Look,” I spoke. “I’ll keep civil if you don’t ask about anything that involves money. I’ll keep it civil if you guys understand how pissed I am at you two.”  
“Trust me, Lucy, we know you’re angry, you have every right to be. . .” my mother spoke, I could see the regret in her eyes. I took a deep breath.   
“Okay. Anyway. . . I have lasagna in the oven, it’ll be done in thirty minutes. I also have my boyfriend over, if you, er, want to meet him.”  
My mother and father smiled at each other. “We would love to, sweetheart,” my mom spoke.   
I nervously turned to look at the bedroom. “Trevor!” I called, he walked out of the door and made his appearance, awkwardly looking at them, then at me. He wasn’t sure what to do, and I wasn’t sure either.  
He cleared his throat. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Reaper. My name is Trevor Philips, CEO of Trevor Philips Industries. I, er, nice to er, meet you.”


	21. 21: Him versus Them

My parents looked very disappointed. I squinted my eyes as my father let out a sigh.  
“This is your boyfriend? He looks like a drug addict.”  
“I’m sorry, what?” I snapped. “First of all, you both were drug addicts up until what, a few years ago? And second of all, what did you expect, for me to marry some normal, average joe?”  
Trevor looked taken back, he did just get verbally dissed. Basically slapped in the face. I walked over to him and took his hand. “Trevor’s my boyfriend, and if you can’t handle him, you can leave. I’d choose him over you any fuckin’ day.”  
My father seemed to get flustered by this. “W-wait, fine, fine, it’s okay if he does drugs, but. . . But how old is he?”  
“I don’t fucking know!” I laughed, turning to look at Trevor. “How old are you?”  
“Fourty-eight.”  
“Fourty-eight!” I threw my hands up in the air.  
“Lucy, he is fourteen years older than you! Even we are closer to his age than you are!” My mother spoke, standing up.  
“Do you think I cared how old he was?” I questioned. “Because if I turned down the best thing that has ever fucking happened to me, because he was fourty-eight, then I wouldn’t have much to be happy about, now would I? You guys fucked me up so much I never wanted to meet anyone and trust them, but I met Trevor, and I love him, and he’s sweet, and he will fucking kill anyone who lays a finger on me,” I growled. “He is loyal, and he is sweet to me, and that’s all I need.”  
“Wait, woah, the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” Trevor questioned, opening his mouth to speak finally.  
I turned to meet his eyes, I smiled. “Of course you are.”  
“We’re just upset because of how the grandchildren will turn out, we just, we want to be able to be there to watch your kids grow up, and make up for how you grew up,” my mother was in tears. I rolled my eyes.  
“Who said Trevor and I were having children? We both own cartels, we’re both wanted criminals, we have a lot of enemies. And, even if we did have kids, what makes you think I’d let you anywhere near them?”  
“Yeah, fuck you guys!” Trevor spoke angrily.  
“We’ve never even spoken about children and here you are demanding this future for me. If you wanted a future for me this bad, you could have molded me to be a better fucking person!” I angrily spoke. “I lost all care for the law when I needed to steal, just to eat, just to buy shoes that fit me as I grew up. I lost all care for you both when your brother,” I pointed to my father. “and his wife, took me in, and became the best fuckin’ guardians I could’ve ever asked for.” I didn’t notice it, but I had started crying. Trevor calmed down to reach over to grab my face gently, wiping the tears from my cheeks and eyes with his thumbs. I stopped yelling, we all did, I let out a small whimper.  
Trevor grabbed me and roughly yanked me into his chest, where I buried my face in his chest. I was falling apart, he knew it.  
“Maybe if you both gave a shit about Lucy, you’d shut the fuck up, hm?” Trevor spoke, his voice wavering. He was about to lose control, and last time he did that, a lot of people ended up dead.  
I heard no response from them for a few minutes as Trevor held me. His grip tightened when I heard one of them shift awkwardly.  
“Well, if she loves you, and she’s happy—“  
“Oh, trust me, she is really fucking happy with me.”  
“Okay, then that’s okay with us.”  
“I don’t need your validation, and neither does she,” Trevor snapped. “Maybe you should leave.”  
“I don’t—“  
“He said, ‘maybe you should leave’, maybe you should listen,” I spoke, grabbing a gun from his pocket and holding it at them.  
My mother hid behind my father, who was tense at the sight of my weapon. “Okay, okay, let’s start over, can we do that?”  
“I don’t think you both can repair what you did. I gave you a second chance, and you blew it. No such things as third chances with me,” I walked to the door and held it open. “Goodbye.”  
I watched as they scurried out the door, I slammed it shut and turned to Trevor. He looked me in the eyes, pulling me close, silently holding me as I sobbed.  
I hadn’t cried in years, maybe even decades, and I was pretty sure last time I cried at all was because of the abuse they put me through when I was a little girl.  
How do you forgive someone who wrongs you so bad, they’ve fucked you up for life?  
You can’t.  
I started to go limp in Trevor’s arms as I started sliding out of his hold, he reached down and grabbed me below my ass to lift me up into his arms, holding me bridal style, kissing me on the lips. He walked me into the bedroom, placing me on the bed, taking his gun back from my grip, and into his pocket, safety on.  
He was about to leave me to sleep, as I had curled up into a ball with my head on the pillow and the blankets in between my legs and in my arms, but I reached out quickly and grabbed his arm. “Stay.”  
He scoffed. “I have to go yell at the young whippersnappers on the street because I’m so fucking old.”  
I blinked for a moment before I smirked. “Come on, you’re not old.”  
“Am I really not?” he questioned, pointing at himself. “I mean, look at me, with a thirty-four-year-old. I never even date younger women, but here I am, robbing the cradle, apparently. I mean, I’m so old your parents coulda hired me as your babysitter.”  
I snickered. “Woulda been pretty hard, calling up a young Canadian to come all the way out there to watch lil’ ol’ me. Come on, baby,” I winked. “You sure as hell don’t have sex like an old man, that’s for fuckin’ sure, you animal, you. Now come here, I wasn’t lying when I said you were the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t care how old you are. I don’t care what you do for a living. I don’t care how many drugs you’re on, or how many you take, as long as you don’t kill yourself. Now come here and hold me.”  
He stared at me for a few minutes before he got into bed next to me, pulling me into his arms. “Better not fuck like an old man.”  
I giggled. “No, you’re a high-class stud, that’s for sure.”  
“So good you could pay me.”  
“That’s for sure,” I spoke, “Now shut up and hold me.”  
I was quiet for a moment, my eyes stayed closed until a thought occurred to me, causing me to fly out of bed.   
"What now?" He groaned.   
"The lasagna!" i gasped. "Did you hear it ding?"   
"No?" he questioned, confused. "Who cares? Go to sleep."   
I rushed to the kitchen, finding the timer had ten seconds left as the lasagna was ready to finish cooking, I took a sigh of relief before taking it out of the oven and placing it onto the counter. I was going to allow it to cool before I packed it back in the fridge, not like him and I would eat it until after our nap, anyways. I crawled back into bed with him, him pulling me closer once more.   
I closed my eyes and sighed softly as he placed a rough kiss on my head before he fell silent, falling asleep with me.


	22. Caught Red-Handed

“Ooh I love my ugly boy, so rough and tough, don't care about anything but me, yes I just love him cause he's so crazy, just crazy about me,” I started singing as I dressed the next morning. Trevor groaned from the bed.  
“I swear to the fuckin’ good lord above, if I’m this ‘ugly boy,’ I’m going to throw this pillow at you,” he groaned.  
I snickered. “It’s a song, don’t worry, you’re just old, still.”  
Smack! The pillow ricochet off my side and ono the floor as I stood there laughing.   
“Chill, babe,” I spoke, crawling back onto the bed to kiss him. “What do we have planned for today?”  
“Well, I have a nice day planned, actually,” he spoke, sitting up in the bed.   
“Oh?” I questioned.  
“First on the list: Make my lady some breakfast. Check. There are some brownies in the fridge.”  
I raised my eyebrow and laughed. “Brownies for breakfast?” I stopped laughing to squint my eyes suspiciously. “Wait, special or regular?”  
“Some special, some regular. It’s a fun Russian Roulette. Will I find everything funny today, or will I hate the world like I normally do?” he got out of the bed, my eyes scanned his naked body. “But if you want to fuck first, that works with me.”  
I grinned. “I’m still sore from last night, give me a few hours.”  
“Suit yourself, sugar-tits.” He walked to the fridge and took the plate of brownies out, devouring one. He started snickering. “Guess which one I had!”   
I snickered and kissed him on the lips. “I’ll have an Eggo.”  
“Aw come on, baby,” he frowned. “What’s wrong?”  
“Still feeling like shit from yesterday,” I spoke. “Not a good mentality to medicate with. What’s second on the list?”  
He sighed. “Well, I did want to go to the Vanilla Unicorn for a bit, watch operations.”  
“And by ‘operations,’ do you mean ‘strippers’?” I took his silent stare as a yes. “Okay, let’s go,” I spoke, grabbing my keys as I walked to the door. He snickered.   
“Wait woah, babe, I’ll drive.”  
“I am not about to be flying around the truck at your mercy as the drugs kick in, sweetie,” I spoke, walking to my Rusty Rebel.  
“Babe, you know I’m always on drugs, I drive just fine.”  
I folded my arms. “And if you kill me?”  
He folded his arms too, mocking me. “And if you kill me?”  
“I won’t kill you. That’s for sure.”  
“Really, Lucy? Miss fast cars?”  
“Fine, fine!” I groaned, I walked to his truck and got in, buckling myself in. “Let’s go, Trevor.”  
He snickered as he got into his truck and started the drive to Los Santos. “Can we at least go to my house and pick up my Banshee? I miss it. You can drive if you want to.”  
“Okay, that I can do.”   
I watched him as he drove, swerving around cars, speeding past the legal limit, and smiled. “I have the most fun when I’m with you.”  
“I feel the same for you, sweet-ass.” He responded, cutting off a driver and slamming on the breaks to fuck with them. He flipped them off and swerved, cutting three lanes to get to the fast lane, slamming on the gas.  
I reached over and took his hand, he tightened his grip momentarily before entwining our fingers.  
\--  
We reached my house, I handed Trevor the keys to my Banshee as he examined the interior. “Holy shit, this is all modified.”  
“I know, it’s my baby. Crash, and we’re over,” I smiled, patting his back. He started the car, hearing it roar to life as he gently touched the gas, the car flying forward.  
“Holy shit,” he spoke as he drove it out of my garage and onto the road, driving down to the center of the city. “No wonder you’re such a little speed demon.”  
“I’m a speed demon in the way I like to go past the speed limit, whereas you’re a speed demon in the way you’re always on speed,” I spoke.  
“You are correct,” he spoke as he started to drive down towards Strawberry, swerving around shitty drivers. “Your car’s front end goes on for miles.”  
“I know, it’s not that easy to drive at first, especially since it’s so damn fast, but you’ll get used to it.”  
“Yeah, okay,” he spoke as he drove into the parking lot of The Vanilla Unicorn, parking in front of the garbage bins.  
We both stepped out of the vehicle and walked to the front where we were greeted by the bouncer.  
“Ayyy, Mr. Philips! And Miss Reaper, you look great today!”  
“Thanks, good to see you,” I smiled and gave him a head nod before Trevor and I entered the building.  
Fergalicious by Fergie was blasting, women in skimpy clothing walking around, appealing to the customers as one of them walked up to Trevor.  
“Hello, Mr. Philips,” she purred.  
“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted as she fluttered her eyelids before walking away slowly, hips moving in a way even I watched her walk away. Of course none of these girls knew I was dating him, but they probably wouldn’t have cared even if they did know. I shrugged it off and looked at Trevor.  
“Doesn’t look so hard,” I spoke, pointing at the catwalk with the pole as one of the blonde girls started to walk down it.  
“Why don’t you try it? I have some new clothing for the girls in the back, I could find one in your size. Since you’re the same size as some of them.”  
“How do you even know for sure, though?”  
“Because I see you naked all the time, and I also see them, very very close to naked a lot, too,” he spoke, walking to the back, waving to Wade before he handed me a skimpy little outfit. I hesitated. “You don’t have to do this.”  
“Well, I’ll hold onto the clothing just in case I ever want to try,” I spoke, stuffing the tiny purple bra and purple skirt that was barely three inches long, along with the long purple and white striped stockings in my pocket. They were so tiny they could fit in there.   
He led me into his office now. “Oh, would you look at that, the desk is all nice and clean.”   
I folded my arms. “The only thing in the entire room that’s clean, hum, I wonder what that means,” I joked as I sat down on his desk, pulling him to me by his shirt.  
“Yeah, I wonder,” he purred as he leaned down to place a kiss on my lips. His hands slid up my legs, pulling at my belt and pants, yanking them down as I shifted so he could take them off. I slid my hands up his chest, pulling his shirt up as I did so, he got the hint and ripped his shirt off, laying me down and kissing me roughly, hands roaming my chest.  
We stopped what we were doing as the door swung open, Lester walking in as I kicked Trevor off and hid my bottom half behind the desk, squeaking as he stood there with wide eyes.


	23. Keep it Professional

I wasn’t able to process words at this point, I was only able to stare at the shocked, rotund man who was staring right at us with horrified eyes.  
“What the fuck?!” he asked after about what felt like five minutes of awkward silence and shifting glances.  
“I—I—We—Uh. . . Please don’t tell Michael or Franklin, we wanted to keep it on the down low, and if they knew about this, they wouldn’t talk to me, and it is just weird for them to know as it is—“  
“God, I wish I didn’t know about this!” Lester spoke, collapsing on the couch in the room as I hurriedly dressed myself, cheeks flushed and heart racing. “Since the Ballas heist?”  
I shook my head. “No, ever since Trevor and Michael went to Madrazo’s and kidnapped Patricia.” I spoke.  
“I don’t know why you’re so shocked, I’m quite the stud,” Trevor spoke as he slipped his shirt back on. “Sooner or later, she’d fall for Uncle T’s charm.”  
Lester was rubbing his temples now in irritation. “I’m glad I’m the only one who knows about this freak show so we can all MOSTLY get along. If they knew you were friendly with Trevor, oh, man, the drama would be insane right now,” Lester spoke before pushing his glasses higher on his nose. “This explains so much, but I just assumed Trevor was making advances on you like he does all women, I didn’t think it’d turn into anything. I mean, a woman would have to be truly desperate to—“  
I was glaring daggers at Lester now, arms folded and foot tapping. “Desperate to. . .?”  
“To—Ah. . .” he stopped speaking when he saw my frustrated, angered form. “I—Perhaps I’ve said too much.”  
“Yeah, perhaps,” I spoke. I sighed and turned to Trevor, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Damn, couldn’t have locked the door, could ya?”  
“Oh, yes, because that wouldn’t look suspicious, a locked door with you and I behind it,” Trevor spoke sarcastically. “Ingenious.”   
Lester let out a long sigh. “Anyways, onto actual important things. . . Were you planning on doing the big one with us, or is this little dilemma between you and Michael that bad?” Lester spoke.   
Trevor waved his hand in the air before taking a seat at his desk, pulling me onto his lap. “You’re crazy if you think I want to walk away from that. I just, I don’t know about Michael.”  
“And you, Lucy?” Lester asked me.  
I smiled. “Definitely following through on the heist.” Trevor’s hands snaked around my waist now, rhythmically rubbing my hips.  
“God, Jesus, can you not do that?” Lester questioned with a scrunched face.  
“Hey man, you know, so there’s nothing keeping me from touching my lady.” Trevor spoke. “My lady who is ashamed to tell our friends we’re together.”  
I turned to look at him with squinted eyes and pointed at him. “We can tell them after the big one. Just. . .This would be the worst time to tell them, and you know that.”  
“Hey, hey,” he held his hands out. “You’re the boss.”   
“Is this a serious thing, or just a ‘friends having consensual sex everywhere because it’s naughty and wrong’ thing?” Lester questioned.  
“It’s a serious thing,” I spoke. “I love him, he loves me.”  
“Yeah that’s right,” Trevor spoke confidently. “I do love her.”  
Lester let out a long sigh. “Typical Trevor falling in love with any girl who gave him so much as a chance,” he muttered with a head shake. “You couldn’t have chosen someone who wasn’t your teammate? Should have kept you away from him longer, Lucy.”  
“Hey hey, what the fuck, Les?” Trevor questioned. “Sorry you can’t get pus—“   
“Hey,” I spoke, cutting him off before I turned my attention back at Lester. I shook my head. “If we had met earlier, maybe he would have been able to help my business during my coma, or stop Carlos’s murderers. . . “ I spoke. I turned to look at him. “I’m scared to think of what would have happened, had he not been here to make sure I was okay.”  
“But you’re a big girl who can take care of herself, you don’t need this guy. If anything, he’ll put you in more trouble than before.”  
“Well, it happened. And thank you for unintentionally getting us together, since you did introduce us,” I spoke. I turned to look at Trevor, then wrapped my arms around his neck, placing a kiss on his lips. “I love this madman.”  
Lester groaned. “Keep it professional, and I won’t freak the fuck out over your. . . . Demonic relationship,” he spoke, he put all of his weight on his cane as he, with great difficulty, stood up from the couch, and limped to the door. He stopped to turn to look at Trevor and I seriously. “Got it?”  
“Sure, amigo, whatever you say,” Trevor spoke as he dismissively waved at Lester.   
After Lester left, I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. What was with all of the disapproval?


	24. Serious

"Was that how the day was supposed to go?" I asked Trevor in irritation. "Lester finding us mid-fuck in your office?"

"Yes, I asked him to watch and he said 'Sure, why not'!" Trevor spoke sarcastically. "Look, it isn't even a big deal if you love me!"

I crossed my arms. "Lester just said not to tell anyone!"

"Fuck Lester!" he shouted angrily. "Fuck him fuck him fuck him! And fuck you if you can't admit you're my girl!"

I was silent now, I looked down at my feet and shuffled them. I wasn't sure how to respond, what he said kind of hurt, but it wasn't like he didn't have a reason to be angry. I could see how he could assume I was ashamed of him. "If we ever get engaged, that's when we'll tell them."

He stared at me for a moment before squinting his eyes at me. "Engaged?"

"I know you're not going to commit to me, you know I don't want to tell the world we're together. We both have our own reasons, but that doesn't mean we don't love each other." I spoke with folded arms.

"I—Who the fuck said we wouldn't ever get married?"

"Everything about you, Trevor. How many women had you been with before me?"

"They were meaningless, you aren't!" he spoke. He was staring into my eyes now. "What are you so afraid of? What are you really afraid of?"

"I don't want to make Michael and Franklin—"

"You're someone who doesn't give a shit what people think or feel. So don't give me that bullshit," Trevor seethed. "The truth, Lucy."

I started to tear up, my vision getting cloudy as I sniffed as he forced me to speak my biggest fear. "Everyone I've ever loved, leaves me. . ." I whispered. "I've been abandoned so many times, I can't handle another heartbreak."

His eyes searched mine now, he remained quiet.

"First my parents abuse me, they emotionally abandon me. My aunt and uncle physically abandoned me when they died. The one and only serious relationship before you, cheated on me in our own bedroom. Carlos died. Everyone left, even if it wasn't by choice they all left my life, leaving me alone." I sniffed, I felt the tears run down my cheeks for the second time this week. God, what an emotional time. "If we become public and take things to a more serious note, and you leave me. . .It will crush me."

"Hey." Trevor spoke, I kept my eyes on my shoes and nervously shifted in my stance. "Hey, look at me." I finally lifted my head slightly, eyes adverting to look up at him through my lashes. "I am not going to ever, ever fucking leave you. No one is going to kill me, no one is going to kidnap me, no one is going to rip you from me. That isn't going to happen, alright? Because I have someone who is important to me for the first time in my fuckin' life, and maybe it's time to settle down."

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. "W—"

He took my hand. "I vow never to fucking abandon you, I am loyal, you know that. If you need more time to trust my words, fine. Just know that I mean every fuckin' word, Lucy Reaper." He spoke, he placed a rough kiss on my mouth before he walked to the door and opened it. "Now come on, we've got shit to do."

I smiled as he pulled me through the door and into the changing room for the strippers. I turned to Trevor and eagerly took his hand.

This caught the attention of the girls who started to whisper to each other about the predicament. Their 'bachelor' boss just revealed he was taken. I could tell some of them were jealous, or just angry their attempts to flirt with him would be meaningless now.

"We're going to go get some food, cause man, do I have the munchies," Trevor spoke as he took me outside and got in the driver's seat of my Banshee. I hopped into the passenger seat and took his hand.

I smiled. "Thank you."

"No problem, baby," he spoke. He started to drive, but I wasn't sure where we were going. "Up-N-Atom." He spoke, as if he could read my mind.

"How about we merge businesses?" I blurted out. He stopped my car abruptly, causing a chorus of honking behind us. We pulled over and ignored the fleet of middle fingers pointed at us as we locked eyes.

"What?" he questioned.

"I trust you," I breathed. "I trust you that much. You can handle transportation and stock, since you have aircrafts, and a bigger variety of things to sell, and I'll handle clientele and staff, because of my people skills and connections," I spoke, growing excited. "I handle my cocaine operations as usual but I also allow your product in my warehouses and they'll be shipped out together. I make sure our workers are doing their jobs and we split profit down the middle."

Trevor's eyes flickered with excitement. "I fucking love you, baby," he growled as he grabbed me by the chin, our lips colliding in a fiery, passionate kiss.

"What'll we name the business?" I asked as I pulled away.

"Philips-Reaper Industries," he spoke. "Gotta get new merch made for it."

My heart was racing, I let out a squeal of excitement as he took out his phone and called Ron to make arrangements, and I called Maurice to do the same.


	25. 25: Business Partners

I woke up to the feeling of a finger in my side, I groaned and rolled over. "No," I said with a breathy sigh. He chuckled. 

"No?"

"No," I spoke simply. Last night, after merging our businesses and celebrating with drugs and alcohol, I was exhausted. All I wanted to do today was sleep in, snuggled up against him, but from what I could see he was already dressed to go somewhere. Actually, I wasn't even sure how long he'd been up for, and if he ran a few errands before waking me up. "Why are you dressed?" I murmured, grabbing the pillow on his side of the bed and holding it close to my chest. It was cold, so I put the blanket over it and hugged it once more.

He sat next to me, his fingers running through my hair. "I had Wade and Ron set up shop for a new Reaper shipment, I also had them talk to Maurice on the phone since they'll probably all be working with each other a lot more often."

"Yeah, especially Ron," I spoke with a yawn. "Kay, now get in the bed and replace this pillow so I can snuggle you instead."

"Nope, time to go to work, babydoll," he spoke, standing up and pulling the blankets which I, despite my groggy state, reached out and snatched before he could pull them fully off of me. I started to audibly whine, pulling them closer as he snickered. "This isn't like you."

"Yeah, because you've never made me cranky by waking me up like this," I snapped. "If I don't get my sleep, you will pay."

He stared at me for a quiet minute, eyes boring into my own. It was hard for me to keep an angry face, and the longer I tried, the longer it felt noticeably false and silly. I couldn't help but crack a grin. "Fuck you," I spoke as a lame attempt to hold my already lost ground.

"Oh, we can do that, too, today, if you get the fuck outta bed."

I tilted my head to the side. We were still one-handedly fighting over the blanket. "If we're going to fuck, don't we need a bed to do it?"

"We also have my airplane hangar, my truck, your truck or any of your billion cars, your warehouses, or-"

"Nope, never my warehouses, I keep professional."

"But yes to my airplane hangar?" He seemed confused by this. "It's technically also one of your places of work, too."

I snorted. "Well, we already have had sex there once so it's already been tainted."

"Tainted? I'll have you know that what we do is far from dirty, and I'll also have you know that you won't be doing what we do if you don't get out of this goddamn bed!" He yanked on the blanket. I yanked back.

"Your words just sounded like one big pile of mush," I spoke. "Therefore I don't have to listen to them." 

"I'm saying you won't be getting some if you don't get up," He spoke. "Stop fighting me and just get up!" 

"I haven't gotten that turnt in a while, Trev," I spoke with a sigh, referring to the night before. "I can't even remember what I did."

"Oh," he spoke with wide eyes and a hanging jaw before he smirked, his eyes holding this arrogantly pleased demeanor. His body language changed. "Oh, Luce."

"What?" I gasped, letting go of the blanket to put my hand over my mouth, sitting up in the bed, but when I released the blanket, Trevor went flying backwards into the door frame. He grunted, but straightened himself out and threw the blanket in front of the closet. He shook his head and watched me incredulously.

"You kept trying to call Michael to tell him off and tell him you were my gal, I only stopped you because I knew you'd be so humiliated the next morning and blame me for not stopping you."

"Oh God thank God, you stopped me from doing a stupid thing," I spoke with relief, collapsing on the bed. 

"But I couldn't stop you from that," Trevor spoke, pointing to my abdomen.

"My stomach?" I questioned in confusion. 

He hesitated. "Above your stomach." 

I frowned and stood up, walking to the bathroom to see myself in the mirror. I lifted my shirt up to see a white, taped bandage underneath my breast and gasped loudly. I'd gotten enough of these bandages in my life to know what this was. 

"You let me get a tattoo?!" I shrieked, turning to the man who had just rushed into the bathroom behind me.

"Shit, Lucy, I was fucked up, too!" he spoke. "You're the one who got the tattoo!"

My heart was racing. "I'm almost too scared to look at it. Is it bad?"

Trevor's eyes searched mine. "Depends on what you find bad."

"Oh, God, it's bad," I groaned. "It must be."

He reached over and pulled the bandage's side, removing it to reveal the tattoo. I placed my hand over my mouth as I looked at it.

In the curve of my breast, in font not too small but also not to giant, it read, "Trevor Philips" in fancy, black cursive with a red heart next to it. 

I turned to look at him with my hand placed on my mouth. I wasn't sure what to say, but he wordlessly unbuttoned his blue flannel long-sleeved shirt and lifted up his stained white undershirt to show me his chest to reveal a white bandage, which he lifted to show something that made my heart beat faster. It was the same font and size, but a few inches lower and in a straight line instead of a curve. "Lucy Reaper" with a red heart.

I felt a surge of pride, love and happiness as I laughed in relief, placing the white bandaging back on me and pushing his gently back on as I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face into the crook of his neck. "I love you," I spoke.

"And I love you," he responded, his arms tightly bound around my waist, face buried in my hair. "Now will you get your ass out of your pajamas and into some clothes so we can go?"

I snickered. "Fine, fine. For you."

\--

I stepped out of our bedroom to find him waiting on the couch with a bored expression. He had been waiting for me for at least forty-five minutes. I gave him an apologetic look as I walked over to him. I was wearing a pair of black and white plaid shorts and a black tanktop. I also wore black converse. I looked at his attire. Dark blue jeans and the blue flannel. I grinned to myself. I had bought him those clothes, and I was glad he was wearing them. They looked nice on him.

"If you folks thought I was old when they first met me, they'd be appalled to know I grew ten fucking years waiting for you to get ready," he spoke, striding over to the door after pushing himself off of the couch. He held it opened and examined my face, seeing I had not only curled my hair but put winged eyeliner on along with a smoky-eye eyeshadow and contoured my cheekbones, I never usually put this much effort. He grinned. "You look nice, though."

"Thank you, my love," I spoke as I closed the door behind me and we headed towards his truck. 

He opened the truck door for me, I stepped into the truck and stretched, yawning. I checked the time on my phone. 4:00PM. I really had slept in long, and then took forever to get ready. I was surprised that I was already exhausted, but I brushed it off as I turned to look at my love, who had currently situated himself in the driver's seat of his truck before starting the truck. He caught me staring and turned to look at me with a lop-sided grin.

"What's up?"

I smiled, placing my hand on his shoulder. "Just happy I'm with you."

This seemed to move him. He was quiet for a moment before he pulled back onto the road and started driving in silence. I could see the corner of his mouth twitch, a gleam in his eyes.

"We're going to my airbase to get wasted," He spoke after a few minutes of driving. I raised my eyebrow. 

"Why there?"

He turned to me and grinned before turning back to look at the road. "Maurice is sending my boys some of your product, and I think it's time I tested it for myself."

I placed my arm on the door, leaning back in my seat, closing my eyes and lifting my head to feel the sun's rays on my face. "It's the best stuff you'll ever get your hands on, that's for sure. I micro-dose at least once a shipment to make sure my stuff is top of the line," I spoke smugly. I wasn't super rich for nothing. 

"We're gonna get fuhhhreakky!" He squealed loudly before pulling next to the airbase, parking right next to his helicopter. I looked at his hangar, seeing a red and white crop-duster in the center, propeller facing us. "Cocaine, meth, weed, alcohol, your pick!" 

I tapped my finger on my chin. "Hum," I spoke, deep in thought. "What the hell, I guess we can get fucked up again," I spoke with a grin. "Just a warning, don't take too much of my product or you'll hallucinate pretty damn hard."

"Really?" He spoke with raised eyebrows. "That's wild," He grinned. "I wanna try."

"What time did Maurice say he'd be here?" I questioned as we started to walk to the hangar. 

"Around 4:30, if Wade and Ron got the information right," He spoke, he brought me to a blue and white cooler, popping the top to reveal beers and waters all surrounded by ice, which had already started to slightly melt, a small pool beneath the cold squares. 

I gulped, feeling just how parched I really was as I grabbed a water. "Gonna hydrate myself first." I was awfully dehydrated from last night and was now sporting a headache. 

He grabbed a Pisswasser, popping the top, chugging half of it in one go without even a slight flinch. "Come on, Luce, you can start getting hammered. Don't be shy."

I rolled my eyes playfully, punching his shoulder as I grabbed a beer. He situated himself on his plane's left wing, sitting cross-legged, staring out into the distance. I hopped onto the wing next to him and leaned forward with my head on my chin, elbow resting on my thigh. I took a swig of beer before leaning my head on his shoulder.

"They should be here soon, then," I spoke as a van started to pull up inside of the hangar. I waved at Maurice who got out of the van and started to unload crates of my product, placing them next to the crop-duster.

"Here you go, boss," Maurice spoke with a wave. I smiled and nodded at him wordlessly as he got back into the van and drove away. 

Ron and Wade pulled up a few minutes after as Trevor started to pop the crates open. I leaned on the side of the hangar as the jittery men's eyes fixated on my stuff. I knew those looks. The looks of addicts in desire.

"Hey," I spoke cautiously. "Remember, no one touches my product until I give the green light. And we don't use more than two percent or personal use."

"Only two?" Wade whined childishly. "But, but, Trevor lets us have more of his meth than that!"

"Trust me, two percent of my product is a ziploc baggie worth, and more than enough to last until the next shipment. I ship out once every two weeks. A skinny line of this will have you fucked up for hours," I spoke warningly. "Use wisely."

Trevor grinned and started to make a line for himself. "Let's see how this is," he murmured as he lifted the makeshift plate he made, a piece of random metal scattered on the floor, as he lifted a rolled dollar bill to fill the gap between his nose and the line of my product as he inhaled deeply, snorting the whole line. His eyes widened as he shook his head, dropping the plate as he let out a large yell. "Holy tits!" He shouted with wide eyes as he turned to me. 

I felt uneasiness settle in the pit of my stomach as I watched Wade and Ron indulge in my product as well as the realization hit me: I wasn't in full control of my product or my business anymore. 

I took a step back. My throat started to close up as anxiety hit. I watched as they took a dangerous liking to my stuff, watched as men who shouldn't have any say in my business took charge and started to sort it for shipment and personal use, taking more than my generous "one baggie" rule as the rage started to replace the anxiety. My fist tightened as I reached for the gun in my pocket, stopping when I remembered I was among allies, not enemies. 

"If you disobey my 'one baggie' rule, I will find out and I will go after you," I spoke calmly and coolly. Trevor's head jerked up, his eyes staring into mine. 

"What? Come on, baby, we're just having fun. Loosen up." He lifted the metal plate up to me where a new line had formed. I could tell he was already high.

I slapped the metal plate away from my face in anger. "A good business owner doesn't use their own product, and a good business owner doesn't let their friends take advantage of their generosity. You know how serious I am about this business, I can un-merge whenever the hell I want. I got on fine without your business, I can do business by myself again if you can't handle that."

They all exhanged jittery, sheepish glances. They were all quiet, and it seemed as if they were too afraid to comment.

I could see a hint of annoyance in Trevor's eyes as I turned away from him and walked to the street next to the building, calling my mechanic to drop off my Zentorno. I was going to Los Santos to clear my thoughts.


	26. 26: The De Santas

What was I doing?   
I sped on the freeway to get to Los Santos as quickly as possible, craving distance between me and the airplane hangar.  
I felt my Zentorno shake as I shifted gears, passing four cars to my left before passing another two on my right.  
Was it really safe for me to be weaving and thinking this hard at the same time?  
No, but I didn't care.   
God, why was I so stupid? I let someone else gain control of my work, and now they were treating it like fun and games. How do you run a business like that without tanking financially?  
And the irresponsibility in taking the product like that. . . .  
Gods. My hands gripped on the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. I bit down on my lip.   
My phone started to ring loudly in its place in my cupholder in front of the center console. I glanced down to see who it was. Trevor.   
I debated on whether or not I should pick it up before ultimately realizing he wouldn't know what was wrong until I told him, and he only got a brief glimpse of why it bothered me. Basically, how would he know my reasons if I didn't tell him?   
I let out a long sigh, reaching down to click on the button on my phone. My phone's bluetooth connected with my phone, and his voice erupted through my speakers.   
"Baby, where'd you go?"   
"Los Santos," I responded bluntly. "I couldn't sit there and watch the three of you disrespect my business."   
Trevor groaned. "Baby, baby, baby. . . .Come on. We're new to your product. We're just. . .Trying it out. We're not going to take advantage of you."  
"Oh, really? I saw you all take more than one baggy like I requested-"  
He cut me off. "What's the big deal?"   
I pursed my lips. "My business was in my control since I was nineteen. And now I have you guys getting your meth'd up hands all over my product and using it like it's not top-of-the-line shit that needs to be saved for the customers. I carefully make my batches and if I have my own boyfriend and his friends being thieves and disrespecting me, I'm going to have so much more problems than I expected."   
There was silence on the other line for so long I thought he wasn't there anymore. I was about to say his name when he finally piped up. "I know business too, Lucy. Don't underestimate my methods. I'll keep Ron and Wade in line. Come home?"  
"No," I responded curtly. "Blowing off some steam." I drove up Vinewood hills now.   
"With who?" He asked.   
"Franklin," I responded. "Gonna see if he's home."  
"Eeerrrr, okay. Well. . . .I'll be home."  
"Yep, I know."  
"Love you."  
"I know."  
He groaned angrily, hanging up the phone as I parked in Franklin's driveway in front of his garage. I walked to his front door and knocked.  
He opened the door after a minute or two of me shuffling my feet nervously. His eyes widened in surprise as he turned to let me in.   
I smiled and wordlessly walked in, taking a seat on his couch before putting my head in my hands and groaning.   
"Trouble?" He asked. I nodded before removing my face from my hands.  
"Not worth mentioning. I was looking to blow off some steam. Wanna go do something?"  
Franklin blinked before hesitating. "Wow dawg, this is really unexpected and I didn't think you particularly liked me much after what went down with Lamar."  
I laughed. "Here I was thinking YOU were the one who didn't like ME much because of what happened with Lamar."   
"Naw, we cool," Franklin spoke, sitting on the other side of the couch. "Well, Michael's home, you wanna go see him? You haven't seen him since before he almost died."  
Oh man, Trevor would be so angry if I did this.   
"Sure," I spoke. Damn, why did I say that? I meant to say "no."  
Oh, well.  
“Alright, let’s go,” he spoke, getting up from his spot on the couch to the front door, swinging it open for me. I nodded at him in thanks before stepping outside, he stepped behind me and closed the door behind him.  
“I’ll drive,” he spoke, holding up his carkeys as he unlocked his Buffalo. I got into the passenger seat, too tired from my long drive to argue. He sped down the street and passed my LS house, driving towards Michael’s huge abode.  
\--  
When we arrived, we found a yellow Issi and a red Sentinel on the lot. I turned to look at Franklin, who seemed to know what was going on.  
“Alright,” he spoke in a cheerful tone. “His family’s back.”  
Ah, that’s right. His family.  
I hadn’t ever met the bunch, I only knew about them through stories Trevor told me. I knew that Amanda, Michael’s wife, was super unhappy, and was, according to Franklin, terrifying. I also knew Michael’s kids were very ungrateful, and blamed Michael for just about everything wrong in their lives.   
I knew his daughter was Tracey, who was on Fame or Shame, and that Trevor had hunted that celebrity down who practically tried dry humping her on set because she was family to him.  
I also knew that his son, Jimmy, was a stoner wasteoid who played video games all day. His son took his car and left him, drugged up on a lawn somewhere, telling his mother Michael had willingly taken drugs, sending the family off to a motel for a while leaving Michael alone for the majority of the time I knew him.  
Sad situation, and I was shocked to see it potentially worked itself out.  
“Do you still want to go in?” I questioned, but we couldn’t answer anymore because Michael was already walking through the front door to greet us. He probably recognized the sound of Franklin’s car and came quickly to greet his second son.   
He saw me in the passenger seat and smiled. I smiled back as I stepped out of the car. “Hey, long time no see,” I spoke, folding my arms.  
“Yeah, that happens when Trevor tries to get you killed,” he spoke with a shrug. “How’ve you been? Did you see that doctor yet?”   
I hesitated. “He’s booked for a long time, so my appointment isn’t for another three months.”  
Lies, lies, lies.  
“Ah, okay, good, good. Anyways, you wanna come in and meet my family?”  
Wow, no, not really.   
I smiled awkwardly before glancing at Franklin. “Er, well, I mean it’s up to you, Frank.”  
Boom, dragged him under the bus with me. He gave me a sideways glance before he nodded at Michael. “Sure man, if things are better.”  
“Yeah, they are, kid,” Michael spoke, turning around and leading us into his house. “Amanda! Tracey! Jimmy! Got someone I want you all to meet.”  
I shifted awkwardly as his wife walked downstairs with his son, and his daughter came out of the living room to come to the front door.  
“This is Lucy. She’s a friend of ours,” Michael spoke.   
“Hello,” Amanda spoke, catching my eye. I smiled at her nervously. She had brown hair that was up into a bun, and despite her age, she had a killer body. Her daughter was a blonde, skinny young adult, and his son was a plump, brown curly haired teen. They all looked like an interesting bunch.  
“Hi, I’m Jimmy,” his son spoke with his eyes glued to his phone.  
“Tracey,” Tracey spoke.  
“She’s better friends with Trevor, but she’s not too weird,” Michael nudged me.   
“Oh, uncle T! I miss him!” Tracey spoke with a smile.  
I never thought Trevor had a parental side to him, but now that I thought about it, he really did. Especially with these two kids.  
“I’ll tell him you said hi,” I spoke.  
“No, please don’t tell that crazy man anything,” Amanda spoke in almost a scolding tone.   
I pursed my lips. I wanted to leave so bad now.   
And as if fate had read my mind, my phone started to go off. Trevor texted me. 

TREVOR: Babe come home plz i made dinner 4 2 & im sorry

I sighed, reading the text before running my fingers through my hair. “Looks like my business needs me. Sorry to leave so quickly.”  
“It’s okay. You got a ride?” Michael questioned. I could feel Amanda’s harsh stare now.   
“Yeah, I’ll ask my mechanic to drop my ride off.”  
“A’aight, that’s cool, I’ll stay here,” Franklin spoke. “See ya.”  
“Bye,” I spoke, waving at them. “Nice meeting you,” I said to Michael’s family nervously, who didn’t much react to my statement. I walked out of the door and waited for my car outside of the De Santa residence, wanting to just lay in Trevor’s strong embrace.


	27. 27: Dinner

I arrived at Trevor's trailer, parking my Zentorno in his empty garage so no one would see it and try to take it from me. I had a tracking device on my vehicle at all times, I just didn't want the hassle of having Trevor find out and gut the poor sap who was dumb enough to rob us.

I walked inside of the trailer with a sigh, finding two plates at the dining table. Both had pieces of fried chicken, along with corn on the cob and mashed potatoes. He probably picked up dinner somewhere, as there was no stack of dirty dishes around us.

"Made dinner?" I questioned aloud, snickering.

"What, you don't think I can make shit like this?"

I turned to see Trevor had walked out of his room in his stained, white t-shirt. I snickered and folded my arms. "You probably could. But where's the stack of dirty dishes?"

"Ah, my little detective," he mused, taking my hands, pulling me towards him with a smirk. "Are you still mad at me?"

"No," I spoke, placing a kiss on his lips. "Not anymore."

"Well, sit down 'n eat, it's getting cold."

"It's probably already cold," I spoke, picking the plate up and placing it in the microwave. I heated it up for a bit before removing it and sitting across from him, he was already digging into his plate. "Stoned?" I questioned humorously.

"Smoked a little to come down from that ridiculous high I got from your product. Too potent for my taste," he spoke. "I can see why it's so popular." He started to nibble at his corn, the mashed potatoes were already wiped clean, and most of his corn, a half-eaten chicken breast remaining on his plate.

I grinned, taking a bite of chicken, moaning. "Man, if you ever do make chicken like this, I'll marry you."

He snickered back. "Ah, the way to a girl's heart is the ability to fry chicken," he smirked. He walked to the fridge and took out a bucket.

"Oh shit," I spoke. "We got more chicken," I was almost done with my food, too. He placed a couple of pieces on a plate and popped it in the microwave, eating the rest of his chicken as he waited.

"Baby," he spoke, sitting in front of me. "You look guilty."

"Damn," I muttered before sighing. "I met Michael's family today."

"Ah, thoughts?"

"Amanda's kind of a bitch," I spoke. He licked his fingers.

"Yeah, she's like that," he spoke, taking the chicken out of the microwave. I took a piece of chicken and placed it on my plate, hissing as it slightly burned my fingers. He adjusted in his seat, picking up a hot piece of chicken as if it didn't hurt him. "The kids are cool. I remembered bouncing them on my knee when they were little."

I bit my lip. "Did you ever want kids?"

This made him place his food back on his plate and stare at me as he chewed. He hesitated, swallowing his food before responding. He didn't speak due to contemplation rather than being polite, I could tell he was really confused and taken back by my statement. "It wouldn't be smart with all the enemies we have. This is our life," he spoke. "They wouldn't be safe."

I nodded, peeling off the chicken skin and eating it. It was my favorite part. "True, true."

"Did you want kids?" he asked.

I stared at my plate. "I don't know. I mean, I don't think I want any. But our window to have kids is closing."

"You're thirty-fuckin-four, when does your window close?"

"It can start as early as forty," I responded. "So six years, roughly."

"Well, we can decide then," he spoke. "I mean, I can't lie, I think I'd like having a kid or two, but. . . I shouldn't, I'd be a shitty father and role model, and we'd have a hard time protecting them. . . " he sighed. "We haven't even chosen one home yet."

"Well, why not mine? It's completely remodeled. This could be your. . . Man cave," I spoke, looking around the place.

"And what's wrong with my place?" he asked, offended.

"We just remodeled mine, it's bigger. . . I mean, you could still own this property. We're filthy rich."

"True," he spoke, clearing his throat. "I mean, we can just sleep at your house, and I can use this as TPI—I mean, RPI—'s office. I'll still spend my time here during the day when I'm not at LS at The Vanilla Unicorn."

I smiled. We finished dinner and I washed the dishes before drying them and putting them away. I felt hands clasp onto my ass, and turned to meet the hungry eyes of Trevor. Hungry for me.

"You have such a bangin' body," he purred. "Come on," he spoke, taking my hand, leading me to the bedroom. I followed, feeling my lust grow as he pulled me onto the bed, placing me on top of him.


	28. 28: Ballas at the Sawmill

I ran my hands up and down his stained white t-shirt, biting my lip, watching him lustfully through my half-lidded eyes as my mouth latched onto his neck, nibbling it softly. He let out a groan as his hands slid down my back, landing on my ass as he pulled me closer to him.

MATURE SCENE START

“God, I’m sorry I ever made you angry at me,” Trevor growled as his eyes focused on my cleavage, he was at an angle where he could see down my shirt and I could tell he was loving it by the size of his tent.

“Mmm, gonna make it up to me?” I purred, licking his bottom lip as he let out a soft moan, rolling me over so he was on top of me.

“You better believe it, baby girl,” he growled, his hands sliding up my shirt and gripping onto my breasts through the fabric of my bra. I gasped as he lifted his hands higher, above my head and off of my body. He unclasped my bra and latched his mouth on my left breast, flicking my nipple with his tongue.

“Mmmm, Trevor,” I moaned as his other hand slid down my stomach and to my pants, undoing my jeans, his fingers sliding into my panties and sliding against my folds. I gasped as his fingers went straight for my clit, rubbing it rhythmically.

“God, baby I love the way you react to me,” he moaned. I yanked on the collar of his shirt, and without me having to ask, he ripped off his shirt, throwing it to the side as he grabbed the belt holes of my jeans, pulling downwards until my pants were off and I was left in my panties. He licked his lips. “Mmm, can’t wait to get me some of that.”

“It’s all yours, Trevor,” I spoke as he visibly looked more aroused at my words, his tongue darting out to lick my panties. I bit my lip as he moved them to the side to lick my clit, two fingers sliding into me as he started to roughly pump them in and out. I gripped the sheets and let out a gasp. He was so good at this. His tongue worked its magic on my clit, occasionally brushing through my folds and near his fingers, up and down rhythmically, before coming back up to my aching clit, flashing pleasure through my body with each stroke.

“Oh my god,” I whispered as I looked down at my sexy man eating me out. “This is so hot,” I gasped as I felt my lower stomach begin to knot up. I was close to my release.

He pulled away, causing me to groan before he took off his pants and boxers, causing me to shut up, mesmerized by his erect manhood, wanting nothing more but to stick it into my mouth and pleasure him endlessly.

I got on all fours as he stood on his knees on the bed, my mouth gently placing itself on the head of his cock to give it a tiny kiss before I enveloped it in my mouth, tightly sucking as I started to jerk him off with my hand.

He let out a moan as I took his cock deeper in my mouth, my tongue sliding up and town as my mouth wet his dick, and the part of his cock I couldn’t fit in my mouth was being squeezed rhythmically by my hand.

“Oh, Lucy, I love you,” he moaned.

There it was. He was in pure bliss. I knew he would be close to cumming by the third “I love you,” and continued to suck him off as skillfully as possible, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

“Oh, my God, that’s it, Lucy baby,” he moaned, watching me. “Oh, God I love you, I love you,” he spoke as he gently pushed my head away. “I want to fuck you now,” he growled, and before I could respond, he pushed me backwards, ripping my underwear off and throwing it to the side before he pushed my legs apart and placed his cock at my entrance.

“Fuck me, then,” I spoke with a grin.

“Beg, baby,” he spoke, sliding the head of his cock against my clit, slapping it against it teasingly. I bit my lip.

“Fuck me, baby, please, put that large cock inside of me,” I gasped.

He kissed me as he slid himself into me, causing the both of us to gasp in pleasure as he then abruptly began to ram himself inside of me. I moaned loudly as he grabbed onto my hips, fucking me so hard I could hear our skin slapping together, the bed squeaking loudly as he slid himself fully into me, causing my eyes to roll back in pleasure as I arched my back.

I could feel the knot in my stomach again, I was close, and by his string of “I fucking love you”s, I could tell he was, too.  
“Oh, my god oh my god!” I shouted as his movements became more erratic, sending me into a blissful, powerful orgasm. I screamed out as he pulled out of me, cumming all over my chest in long, hot spurts.

He collapsed next to me, both of us breathing heavily before I grabbed a tissue from a box next to me, wiping myself off before Trevor’s arm wrapped itself around my waist.

MATURE SCENE END

He pressed his stomach against my back, holding me tight, his head resting in the crook of my neck as we fell into a deep sleep.

\--

I was woken up by Trevor’s phone ringing.

I groaned and rolled over to look at him through messy, tangled hair. Somehow, he had ended up on the other side of the bed in a weird, crooked position.

“Pick it up, please,” I groaned. Trevor reached for his phone and put it on speaker. “What the fuck do you want, Lester?”

“Sorry to interrupt whatever freaky thing you and Lucy were doing, but Franklin needs your guys’ help. It’s serious. Meet at the Paleto Forest Sawmill. His friend Lamar is being holed up by some African American group who run a weed operation out there.”

My ears perked up at this.

“Oh, shit,” Trevor spoke, lurching out of bed. “We’ll be there.” he hung up before Lester could respond.

I was already getting dressed as well.

“It’s the Ballas,” I spoke firmly. My blood was boiling, my heart was racing. “We’ll be outnumbered.”

“Fuck if I’ll let anything happen to you,” Trevor spoke as I put on my favorite pair of ripped, black jeans and my black tank top.

“Hell, an opportunity to gun down those assholes,” I spoke. “I’m in. Hope I take them down hard for what they did to Carlos, and what they did to me.”

We ran outside, Trevor hopping into the driver’s seat of his truck, me hopping in alongside him in the passenger seat. I kissed his cheek.

“Haul ass, baby.”

“You got it, sugar tits.” He started the truck, and we booked it out of there.

\--

We arrived at the sawmill to find Michael’s car already there with Michael leaning up against the passenger door, sniper rifle in hand. Oh, boy. I knew Trevor had defended Michael at the Kortz Center with that one FIB agent a few days back, but things were still really tense between them. 

Trevor gave him a dirty look as he got out of his truck with his pair of binoculars, leaning against the hood as he turned to look at me. “Hey, Lucy, be careful to watch your back, alright? Being Michael’s teammate means potentially dying for his own good.”

“Hey, fuck you, Trevor,” Michael snapped.

“Oh, fuck me? Fuck you, you disloyal piece of shit!”

“Hey!” I barked. “I came here for Franklin, not to hear you two run your damn mouths!” the boy stopped fighting to look at me.

“Stay out of this, Lucy,” Michael warned. “You never know when Trevor’ll go psycho and hurt you, too.”

“Fuck the both of you right now,” I growled, getting out of the truck, climbing onto the hood and sitting cross-legged. “If you both don’t shut up, I’ll cut your vehicle’s breaks out when you aren’t paying attention.”

Franklin rolled up in his white Buffalo, walking out to us. Trevor immediately approached him. “Hey, hey hey. Why’d you invite this stoolie, huh? We want Lamar to be rescued, not sold to the Feds.”

“Give it a rest, asswipe.” Michael responded.

Franklin became irritated. “Man, would y’all two shut the fuck up?” he questioned, looking from Trevor, to Michael. “Now let’s take a look at this place, man,” Franklin tore the binoculars from Trevor’s grip. “Lester said this was some type of big weed storage spot.” He started to look into the binoculars at the sawmill. He took a few steps forward, Trevor followed his actions and stood up close to him on his right side.

“The place is crawling with Ballas, you know. Now me and you, we don’t mind the old gang warfare, but suede bucks over there. . . “ he lifted his arms and started to make a mocked, terrified noise, his hands shaking as if he was imitating a scaredy-cat Michael.

“Hey, tell Trevor I said ‘bite me’,” Michael told Franklin.

“Man, I said shut up.” Franklin snapped. “Now, I see the weed, but where the fuck is Lamar?. . .Oh shit, there he go.”

“Tell Trevor I’m gonna be up on this hill with my rifle,” Michael spoke. “I don’t wanna be anywhere around him when he fucks this whole thing up.”

“Classic, classic huh? He’s already planning his escape!” Trevor spoke. “Oh, fuck!” he started to walk away, too, leaving Franklin and I there to exchange irritated glances.

“Fuckin’ children,” I muttered.

“Tell me about it,” he responded in annoyance.

We all took our vantage points. Since Trevor decided to meet them head-on in the front of the sawmill, Franklin suggested I back him up. Franklin went to the other side of the sawmill.

“Alright, on your signal, Frank,” I spoke in the mic.

“Go!” Franklin commanded.

“Laying fire!” Michael spoke as he started to snipe, Trevor and I rushing in, taking down three guys down before taking cover behind a Cavaclade with him.

Time became a blur, so many shots were fired I had to reload my special carbine twice. I had taken down ten Ballas in total, four of them were headshots and the other six were straight through the heart. I was making the Ballas pay, my own little revenge, and helping Franklin out.

“Gonna break off to give Frank backup,” Trevor spoke as he darted out from behind the car, and up the hill towards the blocks of 2x4’s. I reloaded and aimed for a Balla who was following him, but he flew back as Michael shot him dead in the eye.

“Bye bye, Lucy Reaper,” I heard a deep, angered voice behind me, and turned to find a Balla had his gun aimed at my head.

“Oh, shit,” I hissed, causing the guys to respond quickly.

“He’s about to kill her!” Michael spoke, firing off at the Balla who tried to move out of the way, but of course, couldn’t, his harsh movements causing him to fire off his gun, shooting me in the stomach.

I gasped, collapsing on the floor.

“Lucy! Lucy!” I heard Trevor shriek into the mic upon hearing the gunshot and my gasp. I curled up under the Cavaclade for protection, holding my stomach as I felt everything blur.

“Focus on the task,” I spoke with a shaky voice.

“How fucking dare you, you stupid motherfuckers!” Trevor shouted, I heard a chorus of gunshots and could only assume that Trevor was going through a rampage.

I closed my eyes and focused on gripping onto reality, until I heard the sounds of footsteps. The person who walked to the car bent down to look under, and I met the worried eyes of Trevor.

I carefully crawled out of the tiny space, collapsing against Trevor as he pulled me away from him to examine my face before he placed a harsh kiss on my mouth. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby, I made the fuckers pay for what they did,” he growled. I nodded weakly, my hands gripping onto his shirt as I felt the need to puke.

“I need medical attention soon,” I gasped. I turned my head upwards to see all of the guys, watching Trevor and I interact with dropped jaws.

“Crazy dude and crazy girl. Fitting,” Lamar spoke.

“We’ll. . . All talk later,” Franklin said with a shake of his head. “For now, I’m taking Lamar home. Trevor, you take her to the hospital. Michael, you go along with them.”

“I’m not dying that fast,” I laughed weakly.

“No, you’re not dying at all,” Michael reassured me. “We’ll take her in my car,” Michael spoke. “Your deathtrap of a truck and shitty driving will kill her.” He gave Trevor a mean glance.

“Fuck you, Mikey,” Trevor responded as he opened Michael’s passenger door, gently placing me inside of his car as I leaned into the door, closing my eyes for what only felt to be a moment before I snapped them back open, finding myself nearing the hospital in Los Santos. I felt myself start to panic.

“I don’t want to go into another coma,” I whimpered, I was scared, I knew my body was shutting down, and I didn’t want to close my eyes anymore. I didn’t want to fade away, or wake up years later. I didn’t want Trevor to leave my side. “Trevor,” I spoke with a soft, wavering voice.

“Hey, hey,” he leaned forward in his seat, the back seat right behind my passenger seat, his hands sliding up and down my arms gently. “I promise you’ll be okay.”

I turned to see Michael’s surprised, yet soft glance before he pulled into the hospital. I crawled out of the door and into the hospital, collapsing after three steps in front of a nurse, who gasped and ran towards me.

Everything faded to black.


	29. 29: The News

Flickering.  
That's all I could hear. That's all I paid attention to. The light above my head. It's all I could focus on.   
"Miss Reaper, did you hear me?" The doctor spoke. I did in fact hear her. I wanted to pretend like I didn't. Like what she said was just a nightmare, and nothing more. "Miss Reaper, I know this information is hard to process, but-"  
I whipped my head to stare at her now. Her pursed lips, worried yet firm brown eyes, her hands clasped together neatly on the desk in front of her. "Why did you do a brain scan?"  
"You passed out, Miss Reaper. You didn't pass out from blood loss of the drive by you were involved in-" A lie we had told her. It sounded much better than 'we came in guns ablazing at a weed farm one of the biggest LS gangs owned to save a homie. "-But from-"  
"No no no, don't say it," I snapped. "It's not true. They would have seen it before. I was in a coma for two years. How do you miss something like that?" I asked, breathless, my eyes starting to overflow with tears.   
She hesitated. "Before it was just a shadow on the scan. Nothing serious. Nothing to look into. But it grew. Lucy Reaper, you can't pretend the tumor isn't there. It's there. Have you had moments where you have no clue what's going on? Moments where you feel like you're frozen in time, and nothing around you makes sense?"   
The Paleto Bay heist.   
I kept silent.  
She continued.  
"Have you had moments where things set you off that normally wouldn't?"   
"No, no," I spoke with a harsh laugh. "I'm always set off by everything because of my personality, not-"  
"The areas where the tumor is putting pressure on would cause symptoms or situations such as the ones I've told you. Now, these symptoms don't happen to everyone with-"  
"How long do I have?" I asked, staring into her eyes. The eyes that held the answer.   
"We have two different forms of treatment, Lucy. You may just survive this."   
I pursed my lips. "Give it to me straight, Doc. What are my chances?"   
She hesitated. "Sixty-forty. We can go in there and attempt to cut out the tumor. If we miss some, which is likely, as it is a dangerous procedure with risks, we start you on Chemo to reduce it further, or at least stop if from growing."   
"When do I need to have the surgery by?"   
"The sooner, the better. I have an opening in two weeks. If not, you're going to have to wait a while as I've got a very busy schedule." Her eyes were fierce with confidence now. "I have done this procedure multiple times. You want me to be your Doctor."   
Two weeks.   
"Okay." I spoke, I stared out of the window. "Let's do it."   
\--  
I walked outside to the waiting room where Trevor sat. He shot up out of his chair when he saw me. "Babe, oh thank sweet baby Jesus. Why did they pull you into an office? What's wrong? I thought it was just bullet wounds."   
I looked into those worried, tired eyes of him. Man, he looked like he was awake all night waiting for me.   
I smiled. "Nothing's wrong. It was just bullet wounds, they wanted to ask me if I was in any danger. Just told them it was by random, that I wasn't a target. I'm fine."   
Why did I just lie to him?  
"Oh, man you had me worried," he laughed, shaking a finger at me as he paced. He let out a sigh. "Okay. Let's go." He was scratching his head now, leading me out of the waiting room, leading me to his Bodhi parked on the side of the building.   
I followed him to his truck in silence. I couldn't tell him what was going on. Right? Not until The Big One was over. . .And that was in a week. I could last a week without telling him. I could do that.   
"Hey, you sure you're alright?"   
I looked up to find him staring at me. He had the passenger door wide open, and had been waiting for me to get in. I didn't even notice. "I'm just tired, babe. Let's go home so I can go to sleep," I laughed. "Silly me." I shook my head, and sunk into the chair. "Silly me."


	30. 30: Crash

The guys collectively decided to make me stay home. I spent the whole morning and afternoon in Los Santos, helping warehouses count product and send shipments out to the highway, to Trevor's airfield in Sandy Shores and all throughout Los Santos. 

It was four o'clock in the afternoon by the time I was finished working. I started my drive back home to Sandy Shores in my red Banshee. I didn't want Trevor to know I was out and about, he'd get all upset.

My phone started to ring. I let out a sigh as I gazed at my phone. Trevor.

"Hello?" I asked, putting him on speaker through the aux cord. 

"Babe, what the hell. Where did you go? You were supposed to stay home."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not some wounded puppy. Lay off," I snapped. 

"Hey hey hey don't give me that fucking attitude, I'm concerned about your well-being."

I pressed my foot on the gas harder, I started weaving through cars left and right. "Well, Trev, I know my limits. I can handle myself. I did it before I met you, I can still do it now."

"Where are you now?"

I was about to answer until my head started to spin, the sunlight was so bright it lit up the the white Cavalcade in front of me. I squinted my eyes and started to ease on my breaks. I couldn't hear Trevor anymore, his words became a murmur as my mind went into panic mode. I was losing consciousness.

A car pulled in front of me, but I wasn't fast enough in turning the wheel. I clipped them, sending them flying to the right lane. My front bumper had gotten caught, sending me toppling, flipping over on the freeway, leaving me at the mercy of the cars behind me who did their best to stop, but their cars headed straight into my Banshee. I blacked out. 

\--

I woke up in a hospital bed. Man, I'd done this so often that the hospital felt like a second home almost. A crappy, bright white room that smelled like sterilization and old people. 

I turned to my left to see Trevor sitting beside me, his mouth pursed and his eyes angry. "What. . . The hell, Lucy."

I groaned. "I just came back into consciousness, and you're already hammering me?"

"You're fucking damn right I am!" he shouted. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you space out at the wheel? That's the second time that's happened to you. You really need to see that doctor about your head. Stop putting that shit off!" 

"Stop-"

"I mean, God dammit Lucy! You should see your car! It's totaled. There's no way you're getting it back. How fucked up did you have to be to crash the car you treat like your child?"

"I-"

"You're lucky you only have scrapes and bruises! Yeah, there's a ton of them and you look like a fuckin' rag doll, but the fact you didn't break your bones or die when cars slammed into your flying car dead on, man . . . The guy you clipped died instantly, how the fuck are you alive?"

"Trev-"

"If you just fucking-"

"Trevor!" I shouted, tears spilling from my eyes now. My chest felt tight, I couldn't breathe. He stopped in his tracks, his anger slipping off of him as his eyes met mine. I slumped in the hospital bed, pressing my head into the pillow. I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut. 

I felt his hand hold mine, his fingers entwined in mine. I heard the scrape of the chair on the floor as he sat himself closer to the bed. "I'm sorry, Lucy. I just. . . God." I opened my eyes to find him running his free hand through his patchy hair. "You know I hate being lied to. You told me you were fine. But you're not. You need to see a Neurologist."

"Trevor, last time I was here, I did. That's why I was in that office." 

He tightened his grip momentarily. "You told me they asked you about the 'drive-by'."

"I lied."

He pursed his lips.

"Why?" 

"Because you don't want to hear the truth. . . " I spoke. I could feel the tears start sliding down my cheeks again. 

"You have to be fucking honest with me, Lucy, or I'm going to get really fucking mad," he spoke slowly. "I can't control my anger towards people who lie. I'm not going to hurt you, I just. . . Just. . .Come on, lying to me is going to make me want to start arguments with you, and I don't want to do that. What's going on that's so bad that you couldn't tell me?"

"I have a brain tumor."

There.

It was out.

Trevor's eyes stared into mine as if he was expecting me to burst out in a fit of giggles, as if he was expecting me to say, "Haha, just kidding!", but when he realized I wasn't going to say anything after a moment of painful silence, he swallowed hard. "How bad is it?"

"I have a sixty-forty percent chance of surviving. I'm having surgery in two weeks. They're going to try to remove it, but chances are they won't be able to take all of it out. I'm most likely going to need to go through Chemotherapy. Babe, I'm scared shitless, and-" my throat closed up. I looked at my hands.

He stood up from his seat and wrapped his arms around me. I buried my head into his chest. "You should just leave me now," I spoke, clinging onto his shirt. "Save yourself the pain."

"Hey, there's no way I'm letting you fuckin' die, you hear me?"

"I can't control whether I live or die. . . " I sniffled. "You can't blame yourself if I do die."

He ran his hand through my hair, kissing my forehead. "I'm going to pay for all your treatments, drive you to all of your appointments. . . All of the money I get from The Big One will be for you to get the best treatment possible, because I-"

I stopped listening now. His loyalty was what made me feel a sharp pain in my chest. Trevor was the most loyal human being on the planet, so loyal he was ready to dedicate every waking moment to keeping me alive. I felt guilty for putting me through this. He was crushed when he thought Michael died, I could only imagine what would happen to him if I died. He didn't deserve to go through that. He would be so drained and depressed by the end, he wouldn't be the same, I'd drag him down.

I never cared whether I lived or died before. I welcomed death. I lived life on the edge. But right here, right now, as my reason to live warmed me up with his body, I felt the will to live strengthen in my soul, consuming me in an instant. I had to live. I just had to survive this. 

I just closed my eyes tight, breathed in his musk, and tried to remember this feeling of being safe in his arms as he tried to tell me everything would be alright, and for his sake, I hoped he was right.


	31. A Night Out

Don't tell Michael.

Don't tell Franklin.

Don't tell Lester.

Don't tell anyone.

That was the rule I gave Trevor. I knew it was a large burden to hold such a troubling secret, but we had to do The Big One. Or, they had to do The Big One. I was out of the running for it. There was no way anyone would let me work that heist. For obvious reasons, of course.

Trevor and I were getting ready to meet up with the gang at The Vanilla Unicorn. They wanted to discuss. . . Things. And by things, they probably meant Trevor and I. The elephant in the room they hadn't spoken of for the last week. I just got out of the hospital this morning (Trevor wouldn't let me leave until he knew I was physically okay, because he didn't trust me with important medical information anymore), so they probably didn't want to stress me out until I got out.

How thoughtful.

I started to button up my flannel. I wanted to wear loose-fitting because my skin was still so tender and bruised. I also put on some baggy jeans and vans. "Trev?" I questioned, putting my hair in a loose ponytail.

"Almost ready," he spoke from the bedroom. I rolled my eyes. I wasn't sure why he was taking so long. His version of getting ready was 10x faster than the normal person's. Step 1: Pick up pieces of dirty clothing from the floor. Step 2: Put them on and run out of the house. 

I let out a chuckle. He was probably trying to find something clean so I didn't give him a look. I knew for a fact he didn't do laundry when I was gone, since his house doesn't have a washing machine like mine does, so I knew his clothing options were super limited. We hadn't officially moved into my house just yet, we didn't have time yet.

He finally walked out of the bedroom with a red bowling shirt on and a pair of black pants. He wore black shoes with this outfit.

I smiled at him and winked as he came up behind me and grabbed my ass. Surprisingly, it was the only piece of my body that wasn't bruised. 

"Ready to get interrogated like crazy by Michael and Franklin?" He questioned with a funny grin. It made me burst out laughing. 

"Oh, just try and stop me from going." I teased. I ran my hands down his shirt, he gently grabbed my hands and pulled them to his mouth, placing a kiss on them before giving me a look I hated seeing.

He looked at me with sad, worried eyes, and I couldn't help but tear up at this. I knew it was tearing him apart.

"Don't look at me like that," I scowled with a soft voice. 

"A week ago I wouldn't have wanted to do this, but right now, to be able to show you off as my girl and spend some time with you out on the town. . . Priceless." Trevor shook his head now, I could see a flash of anger in his eyes. "I lost my best friend. Hell if I'm going to lose you. I can't-. . ." He let go of my hands to turn away from me, his fists were clenched. I could tell he wanted to punch something. "I can't fucking believe life screws me over like this."

"Baby," I reached my hand out to touch his shoulder gently. "Don't act like I'm already dead. I'm right here. Please."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Which car are we taking?"

I scowled at his question. I felt a pang of sadness hit me when I realized my Banshee was dead. "My mechanic is trying to take useable parts out of my Banshee to transfer to the new one I'm going to buy. For now, I have my Reaper outside." I held up my keys.

He snatched them from my hands before I could even blink. My jaw dropped. "Oh, come on, am I not allowed to drive now?"

He let out a harsh laugh. "Are you fucking kidding me? No, you're not allowed to drive now. The fuck is wrong with you?" He placed a kiss on my temple before he pushed the front door open. We both walked out and headed to my car. I crawled into my passenger seat. God, it felt so weird being the passenger in this car specifically. No one else had ever taken the wheel of this car.

I couldn't wait until I was better. I would be able to drive again.

"Okay, how do you. . ." Trevor examined the interior of my car. "Wow. This thing is completely decked out with upgrades."

"Yeah, I know. The base price is around 1,600,000. Plus the upgrades. . . Probably another mil. So take care of my baby." 

He put it in drive and touched the gas, the car roared to life and jolted from its still position. He laughed and gunned it to the freeway as I dug my claws in my own palms. "This little thing is faster than I expected!"

"It's just sensitive," I spoke. "It's slower than the Banshee but it has better handling so I hope you don't give me a heart att-" I stopped speaking to let out a scream as he started to weave through traffic, causing my head to fly left to right in my seat. Good thing I had racing seatbelts on in this thing. "Ah, fuck Trevor!" 

He let out a laugh. "Man, I'm going to love driving your cars."

"Oh, God," I groaned. "My mechanic is going to have to work overtime."

\--

We arrived at the Vanilla Unicorn. It was late, so the place was booming. We parked in Trevor's designated parking spot as I got out of the car and nearly fell against the ground on account of my shaking legs. "Fucking Jesus, Trevor," I muttered under my breath as he shoved my keys into his pocket with a laugh. He took my hand and walked me in. 

"Trevor Philips, Lucy Reaper, a pleasure!" The bouncer at the door greeted as we skipped the line. We both nodded respectively and then took our reserved booth by the catwalk. The loud music was nice, paired with lights as Cheetah walked down the catwalk and men cat called and whistled at her. She seemed to love the attention. 

Michael and Franklin were already there, and started on drinks. We sat down at the table, and I couldn't help but feel the tension between Michael and Trevor. I knew they were probably trying to be civil around each other for the sake of the woman who just got out of the hospital.

"Hey," I greeted with a soft smile. 

"Hey," Michael smiled at me. "How was the drive here?"

I shot Trevor a glare. "Why don't you ask speed racer over here?"

Trevor started laughing. "Oh, come onnnnn! I'm not even that crazy of a driver."

"Man, I've seen you drive, and I know for a fact that's a lie. You's a crazy driver," Franklin piped up. He then turned his attention to me. "How you feelin'?"

I shrugged. "Like I got sucker punched on every spot of my body. But it's not too bad." 

Franklin nodded slowly. "Okay, dawg, well, hope that gets better."

Trevor snaked his arm around my waist as he flagged down a waitress. He turned to look at me. "Want anything, babe?"

"A vodka tonic." 

"Hey, Betty," Trevor greeted.

"Hey, baby," she spoke with a grin until she noticed his arm around me. "Oh, sorry, girl," she spoke to me. "Didn't realize y'all were dating." 

"It's fine." 

"We'll have a vodka tonic and a pisswasser," Trevor spoke.

"You got it, boss," she spoke, whipping around to head to the bar. 

"So no one knows you two are dating." Michael asked. It sounded more like a statement than a question. 

"Just Lester, Ron, Wade, her parents. . . " Trevor shrugged. Michael and Franklin exchanged glances.

"Your parents?" Michael asked. 

"Yeah, the shitheads wanted to come back in my life, met Trevor, hated him, so I told them to fuck off," I was tapping my foot under the table nervously. This conversation made me feel uneasy, for some reason. "And honestly, whoever can't accept it can fuck off, too."

Michael hesitated. "When did this happen? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Right before you guys kidnapped Madrazo's wife," I took my vodka tonic from Betty, who handed my drink to me. I took a sip. Strong, just how I liked it. "We didn't tell you because we knew you guys'd freak out or make a big deal about it."

"Is it serious?" Michael asked again. It seemed he was more horrified, or confused, than Franklin.

"Yeah, man," Trevor snapped, but then he softened once I shot him a look. He cleared his throat. "I love her. She's fucking awesome."

I smiled at this before placing a kiss on his cheek.

"But the age difference. . ." Michael spoke.

"Hey, fuck you, man." Trevor spoke angrily. 

"Fourteen years." I spoke. "Honestly, we didn't think of the age difference until my parents pointed it out."

"I guess it works though, you guys have always seemed to be a bit crazier than normal people," Franklin spoke. "Kinda thought you two'd be perfect for each other from the start."

"Yeah, I just had no idea a psychopath could fall in love," Michael muttered under his breath.

"We're both psychopaths, if that helps. Both insane. Insanity x2," I joked, looking at Trevor. "I just love him so much that nothing else matters. Not the age, not the situation we're both in. Fuck, we conjoined our drug cartels. We're moving in together. It's real, and if you guys find it weird, well . . ." I shrugged. "Eh."

"As long as we don't walk in and see you guys screwing, we're fine," Michael spoke as he took a sip of his whiskey.

"Oh, Lester did that, it was awful," Trevor spoke, drinking his beer. "Speaking of the crippled fellow, what's the plan with The Big One?"

"Lester's almost got it ready for us," Michael spoke. He turned to look at me. "You in?"

"No," Trevor answered before I could even part my lips to speak. "Not after the incident that landed her in the hospital."

"How's your head, man?" Franklin asked with a frown. I let out a sigh. "It's fine."

I could practically sense the distress radiating off of Trevor at this point. Betty came by to hand Trevor another Pisswasser, but he held his hand up respectively as his way of saying "no more." 

"I have to drive," he told her. "But thanks. How about you, babe?" He turned to look at me.

I was staring into my drink. Staring at the bubbles clinging onto ice cubes, the liquid sloshing around as I grabbed it. "I-. . I- . ." I couldn't speak. 

The music suddenly became too loud for me. The sounds of people speaking added in with that, along with the clicking of Cheetah's heels as she walked back down the catwalk once more.

My vision started to alter, the flashing lights triggering something in my head that didn't feel right, I squeezed my eyes shut. Oh my god, sensory overload. 

Trevor seemed to realize what was going on. I started to hyperventilate. "We have to leave," Trevor spoke, handing Betty an $100 before grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the club.


	32. Please

When I woke up, I was in my bed. I shifted before letting out a large groan. He wasn't in the bed next to me, which made me frown, but I was sure he was just in the kitchen. I got up from the bed when my head spun. My hand reached out to grasp the door frame before gasping as my world flipped perspective and blurred. My hand slipped and I landed on my right hip, my hands reached out to cushion my fall but my perspective was so off that my wrists and fingers hurt badly from the fall. "Fuck!" I cried as I leaned against the wall, head smacking the wall hard enough that I could hear the weak wall crumble just a hairline.

"God dammit Lucy," Trevor sighed. I looked up to see him with a pan on the stove, the fire tickling the bottom of the pan as he cooked what probably was eggs. It smelled like eggs. He reached down and grabbed my hands, I tried to grab his at first but I missed him by two centimeters. He picked me up from the ground and placed me at the table. 

I put my head in my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm tired of being this way."

"I made you breakfast," he spoke, surprising me. I heard the clink of ceramic in front of me and opened my eyes to see a plate on the table in front of me. Two eggs, crispy bacon, and unevenly cooked pancakes. Aw, he was so sweet. I smiled at him as he sat in front of me. "Eat up."

"Trevor, Trevor, Trevor. . . " I clicked my tongue, flashing him a playful grin. "What's your game?"

"The surgery is in a week," Trevor spoke. "I want you to be happy." 

I frowned, letting out a small groan. "Babe, the big one is in three days. Stop focusing on me. You have to be prepared," I spoke, worried eyes glued on his. "If you died, I-. . . " I shook my head with a big frown. "I wouldn't be able to live without you. I don't think I could."

He let out a soft chuckle, it was dark, and lacked humor. "Same with you." 

My heart sank. I let out a soft sigh before checking to see what he was cooking. He was trying to make omelettes, but he was failing miserably. I cracked a grin and gently pushed him aside with my hip. "Let me do this, go sit down and crack open a cold one."

"No, you're too weak to-"

I cut him off. "Wanna bet?" I teased, holding my fists up. "Put 'em up, let's go." 

This threw him off guard, he grinned and opened the fridge, taking a beer out and popping it open. He took a swig before sitting down at the dinner table, watching me nervously as I started to make a new omelette. The one he had made was so burnt, there was no way it'd be edible, and there was also no way my fire alarm would've kept quiet through another second of this burning concoction. 

"So, how's Mikey and Frank?" I asked, putting his favorite ingredients into this omelette. I was going to cook this so well he'd be watering at the mouth. My specialty was always breakfast foods.

He groaned. "They keep asking about you. They asked if they could come over tonight for dinner to talk about the big score, it's really just a front to see how you're doing. They say something's up with you."

I rolled my eyes, then turned to him with my hand on my hip. I let out a sigh. "Well, Trevor, they can come over if they want, I appreciate their concerns but I will not humor them by presenting myself too often. If I feel dizzy tonight I'll just stay in bed while you guys have the dinner table to yourselves."

I watched as his eyes glanced at the window, his lips pushing together in a tight line before he let out a small sigh. 

I frowned. "What?"

"You know what, Lucy. This is awful," He shook his head, letting out a groan. "Please, don't die," he spoke in a whisper, squeezing his eyes shut. I felt my body tense, I felt my heart fall and my sorrows rise. 

"I'll try my hardest to survive, Trevor," I spoke with a shaky voice. "But I can't promise. I wish I could."


	33. Dinner Preparations

Michael and Franklin wanted to come over to dinner to discuss The Big Score, and most likely, see how I was holding up. Although they had no idea about the real state of my health, they had an inkling. I mean, when you hear someone has head trauma, and then very recently crashes their favorite car on the freeway because they blacked out at the wheel, what else could you expect? 

"Make sure to tell them it's not your trailer," I spoke to Trevor as I entered my home with hands full of groceries. I had gotten a ride from Maurice, who knew of my predicament and was willing to help me get through recovery. He was doing a great job on operations, which I still checked in on every morning via phone. "They might be waiting by your place for thirty minutes before realizing we're not there."

Trevor started to unpack the groceries with me. "It's not too hard for them to figure out." He paused for a moment. "On second thought, Michael's not the brightest." He took his phone out and started to make a text message, walking into the living room. I chuckled at his blunt comment, and started to look at all of the ingredients I had sprawled out on my counter. I was going to make Fettuccine Alfredo with grilled chicken, and for desert, Tiramisu, my uncle's special recipe. It took me less than an hour to make, but since it could just sit in the fridge until after dinnertime, I was going to make it now, in the afternoon, and make the pasta right before their arrival time.

I also made sure to get Pinot Grigio for us to drink as we eat, as it would pair nicely with the pasta. I smiled as I became excited about the night, I hadn't done this before. It was on my bucket list to have a nice dinner with friends at my house.

I felt my stomach drop and sadness flood in, taking a shaky sigh before shaking my head. I was doing this because I didn't think I would make it. I was sure I was going to die.

I bit my lip and started to set the table. It was only three o'clock, but they were coming over at six o'clock and if I didn't do this now, I'd completely forget to set it until they got here. I used a nice black table cloth and tan, woven vinyl table mats, placing the wine flutes on the left side of each mat. I made sure to place napkins beside every plate.

Trevor walked back into the kitchen and paused, watching as I organized the dinner table, and then started to prepare the Tiramisu. "Babe, it's just Michael and Franklin."

I smiled and looked up at him. "I know. I just. . .I want to do this." I tried to not seem so suspicious, flashing a smile at him and everything as I started whisking eggs. 

He frowned. "Why are you whisking so many eggs? And why do you have sugar? Are you making dessert, too?" 

"My uncle's famous tiramisu," I spoke with a grin. "We'd give this as peace offerings for rival businesses sometimes. I'd like to think it worked at least seventy percent of the time. I just haven't had it in so long, and-" I was reaching for the bag of sugar when Trevor cut me off.

"-And you want to have it before you die." He finished the sentence with my actual thought process instead of the phony lie I wanted him to believe. My hand dropped to my side as I let in a shaky breath, turning to look him in the eye, but I didn't want to look at them. I didn't want to see the heartbreak. I kept my line of vision just under his eyes. "This is all a last big bang, isn't it? A last big party before you die?" his voice was breaking now. "You have to act as if you're not going to die, Lucy."

"But what if I do?" I shouted, tears streaming down my face. "Trevor, I can't accept my death. No one can. No one's supposed to. But I can make these few days fun for me, just in case they're my last. Shouldn't I be allowed to?" I sniffled, wiping my face with the back side of my hand. 

He was quiet for a moment before lifting my chin with his hand so I looked at him in the eye now. His eyes held sadness, but also a tiny speck of joy. "We'll spend these days your way, so you'll be happy, and we'll continue living how you'd like after the surgery. Until we grow old together, and we become senile and do a shit load of drugs. I'd love to look into this face when its wrinkled and tell you I love you, and die next to you, but that time won't come for a long, long time Lucy." This was unlike him, but it was a side I appreciated seeing. I smiled as I stopped crying, my heart full with love. Love for this man. 

He ran his fingers through my hair, placing a kiss on my temple before he hesitated and bent down so he was on one knee, pulling a box from his dirty sweatpants' pocket, popping it open and revealing the biggest diamond ring I had ever seen in my life. "Lucy Reaper, will you marry me?"

My jaw dropped, I gasped and I nodded 'yes' so hard I felt like a bobble head that was about to fly right off. He smiled and slipped the ring on my finger. I looked at it with admiration before smiling up at him. "Trevor Philips, so unlike you." He got off of his knee and slipped his arms around my waist, grabbing onto his left wrist with his right hand, resting his hands on my butt before placing a sweet kiss on my awaiting lips. My eyes fluttered closed, enjoying this moment, kissing the man I knew I wanted to spend forever with, if fate would allow it.


	34. Pasta and Wine

It was five thirty. The Tiramisu was complete, waiting in the fridge to be eaten, and the fettuccine was minutes away from being complete. The sauce was nice, rich, but not too heavy. The chicken was grilled to perfection, still holding the moist interior whilst having that nice, grilled texture and flavor. I felt like Chef Gordon Ramsay would look at my fine work, and would appreciate the level of effort and work I had executed. That, or he'd call me an idiot sandwich. Either way.

"Trev, is the living room clean? Did you change into your bowling shirt?"

 

He groaned from his spot in front of the television. "A fat fuck like Michael won't notice if the place is sloppy. And it's okay if I look sloppy, too." 

I giggled before I ran into the living room, tackling him as he sat at the couch, surprising him. He started laughing as he grabbed me and threw me down onto the cushions, taking control as he started tickling me. "Fine, fine!" I gasped in between giggles. "Fine!" I gently pushed him off of me and kissed him as he chuckled and gave me a quick slap on the ass, which I gave him a playful glare for before going to my pasta dish. I strained the noodles, al dente and not mush, and placed it inside the sauce. I put the dish in a large serving bowl, which I placed in the center of the table along with a basket of bread sticks I had hastily made during the cooking process to tie together my Italian meal. 

After I cleaned all of the pots and pans I had used, and placed my apron in the cabinet where it belonged, the doorbell rang. "Coming!" I shouted as I quickly washed my hands. I swung the door open to find Michael and Franklin waiting, and flashed them a genuine smile. "Hey! Dinner just finished cooking. Come in!" I moved to the side for them to walk in. 

"Smells great!" Michael commented.

"Yeah, I agree," Franklin piped up.

"Thank you!" I cheerily spoke. "Hope you like Italian."

Michael flashed me a joking look. "Oh, I think Italian will do." I grinned back at him. Trevor walked in wearing his blue bowling shirt and black pants. 

"Wow, babe, smells delicious!" He commented as he took a seat at the table. Michael and Franklin looked surprised at all of the effort I had made for dinner. I sat next to Trevor, across from Franklin, and smiled at his compliment.

"Thanks, Trev." 

"I take it you're feeling better?" Michael asked as I started to serve everyone a plate. 

I hesitated before responding. "Oh, yeah, definitely." 

Once everyone was served a portion, and their wine glasses were full, I sat down at my plate and took a bite. Everyone did. 

They let out moans of appreciation. "This is amazing," Franklin spoke as he took another bite.

"That's why I keep her around," Trevor joked. I elbowed him in the rib.

"So, The Big One," I spoke after a few bites of food.

"Oh," Michael spoke, swallowing his bite. "We decided tonight isn't a good time to talk about it, but we're interested to know how you're doing. And if you're in on it."

"I would love to, but I'm going to sit out on this one," I spoke. I reached for a bread stick, and Michael let out what I could only interpret was a yelp of surprise.

"Is that a ring?"

My eyes widened as Franklin's head snapped up as well, Trevor's eyes were also on me with a smirk. 

"Fuck yeah it is," Trevor spoke. "Proposed today."

"You? Proposing?" Michael questioned with a chuckle. "Wow, never thought I'd see the day."

"Hey!" Trevor barked. "Fuck you, man. I didn't want to just walk into a strip club and find the first hoochie mama on a pole like you did."

"Aye, shut up you two," Franklin spoke, stopping the heated argument before it could get worse. "Lucy made y'all this nice dinner, and y'all are ruining it."

"I'm sorry," Michael sighed. "My bad. I made the first comment. Sorry, Lucy."

"Hey," I spoke with a shrug. "As long as it didn't escalate, I'm fine." I smiled. "Thanks, Frank."

"You got it." 

Michael took a sip of the wine after a bite of fettuccine. "Man, this pairs well. You know your wine. When're you going to see a Doctor about your head?"

"I have an appointment in two days," I spoke. Trevor tensed next to me, but I tried not to call attention to it. "Anyone want seconds?"

\--

Dinner went well. We drank, we ate, and after we killed two bottles of wine, I whipped out the Tiramisu. It was a big hit, and there were no leftovers for the pasta or the dessert. My dinner party went successfully, Trevor and Michael spoke of old memories, Franklin and I told our own classic stories from before we met Trevor or Michael, and we all laughed and enjoyed ourselves. The night went on until two AM, when Michael checked the time and realized he had to get home. 

All in all, the dinner brought us all closer together, and I was glad to make that happen. If I did die, I need Trevor to have people to lean on for support. After they left, Trevor handed me a Pisswasser, and we continued drinking until we slurred. 

"Babe, let's get married tomorrow," Trevor spoke. "Let's drive to Las Venturas. Get hitched."

I snickered, leaning my head against his shoulder. "I don't want to go back home, Trevor, but I'll do it for you."

Trevor smiled, pulling me into a kiss before we both slumped on the bed, falling asleep without uttering another word.


End file.
